Ricky
by Glistening Sun
Summary: Set after 'Red Tape': Andy runs into a teenager outside of Parker Center who bears a striking resemblance to his nephew Mario and introduces himself as Ricky Raydor. My headcanon on why Ricky looks nothing like Jack and why he and Andy seemed to know each other so well in Sweet Revenge. / new chapter 'Hormonal Confusion' posted January 28th
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 **June 2009**

The last three days had been intense. Andy Flynn didn't mind working a tough case, but this had been different. _That woman_ , as the Chief called her, had investigated one of their own and that never went down well with Andy. Hell, all Gabriel had done was his job, and damn well at that. As far as Andy was concerned, he would have done the exact same thing.

Then FID had to come and investigate him like some common off-the-street criminal. FID, and of course not just anyone, but the ice queen herself: Captain Sharon Raydor. The famous black trenchcoat and aloof bitchiness included. There wasn't a curseword Andy hadn't thrown at her in their many meetings over the years – and she had never shown any emotion. She might have raised her voice a little, never enough to call it shouting, but that was that. Her deathly glare which had earned her the nickname Darth Raydor. Andy vividly remembered the night he had coined that name – but not as vividly as he remembered a night with a very different Sharon Raydor.

No, this whole thing didn't sit well with Andy. At least they'd found the real killer and had exonerated Gabriel. The Chief had sent them all home early and Andy was looking forward to meeting up with Provenza later for drinks, well, or in his case, cranberry soda. But before that, he had some errands to run.

The bright sunlight and hot air hit him upon leaving Parker Centre and for a moment he cursed the idea of walking to pick up his dry cleaning. But the dry cleaner wasn't far and the traffic at this time of day was hell and he would never have found a space to park his car. He took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, rolling up the sleeves before he noticed the familiar figure a few hundred yards away. Andy squinted into the bright sunlight and pulled out his shades.

Yes, that was indeed his nephew Mario milling around outside Parker Centre. He would have known that boy anywhere. The tall lanky figure of the teenager who was constantly outgrowing his clothes, had been all his life because he had shot up so quickly. It seemed that he had finally stopped growing now that he even towered over his uncle. The boy was moving in time with the music. He was no doubt listening to on his ipod – Andy's Christmas present for his favourite nephew.

Hell, that boy had basically filled the place of Andy's children. After his wife had left him and all but taken his own children away from him, he had spent a lot of time with Mario. He still remembered how it had come about. His sister Guilia had been pregnant with twins at the time, and the pregnancy had been a difficult one, requiring her to lie down and rest a lot. Andy had started going to her home after work to help out with the energetic toddler. Then, when Mario's little sisters had been born, Guilia had been overwhelmed raising them with her husband away in the army. So Andy had continued to spend time with the family. He and Mario had bonded, and the boy had been a good focus, someone to feel responsible for outside of work and in the newfound freedom of his recent sobriety.

But what was Mario doing here in this part of town? Shouldn't he be in school this time of day? Was something wrong with his sister or her family? Was the boy in trouble? Andy's heart beat faster and he picked up the pace of his steps. Mario seemed calm, kicking his foot against the metal railing while bobbing his head in time to the music. He was a typical Flynn with that mop of wild, dark hair so reminiscent of Andy and his brothers at that age. Just last weekend Guilia had told him she had finally given up on sending Mario to a hairdresser. Apparently, Mario cut it himself with the kitchen scissors.

"Mario? Hey buddy, what'cha doing here?" Andy called out when he was close enough. "Paying your old uncle a visit?"

But Mario was listening to his ipod and probably couldn't hear him.

"Mario!" Andy tried again, louder this time and reached out to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Mario, hey, why are you here?"

The teenager turned around with a surprised expression on his face and looked at Andy, who had to squint: He sure looked a lot like Mario, but it wasn't him.

The boy extended his hand towards Andy,

"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't realise you were talking to me. I'm not Mario. My name's Ricky. Ricky Raydor."


	2. Red Tape

**Chapter 1: Red Tape**

 **June 2009**

Ricky Raydor? Andy was grateful for his years of training when he smiled back at the young man.

"Oh my, I apologise. You did look remarkably like my nephew from afar."

Raydor. How many goddamn Raydors were there in this town? And how many would have a reason to be loitering outside the LAPD? He knew she had a son, and this Ricky looked to be the right age.

"No worries, hope you'll find him." Ever polite, just like mother and the same inflection in his voice.

"Yeah, thank you," Andy nodded and turned back towards Parker Centre, boiling inside. That woman. Damn Captain Raydor. Fuck, he was going find out what was going on. He was going to confront her and he was going to do it right now!

Once in the elevator, he jabbed the button to IA's floor forcefully, balling his hands into tight fist. Images flashed before his mind.

 _Sharon without the black powersuits and the dark frames rimming her beautiful green eyes. Lavender, much like the top she had worn yesterday, except that then it had been a lavender dress, flowing around her as she moved._

 _Sharon with the grenadine and soda. The laughter and the softness of her hair, her incredible sense of rhythm and poise when she danced._

 _Sharon who understood him without judging him. Sharon with her soft voice. Even now he remembered that night with a special tenderness he couldn't quite explain._

Andy didn't pay attention to the rest of her squad milling around the office. He knew them and they knew him. He had been here many times over the years and held shouting matches with Sharon. They knew better than to interfere when Lieutenant Flynn and their Captain had it out. They were looking at him with a mix of trepidation and barely concealed disgust. Lieutenant Elliot who worshiped the ground his Captain walked on. Dogs eager to place her royal highness.

He caught sight of her through the blinds, calmly going through papers with her pen poised ready to pounce on any fault or discrepancy. Dark hair, dark glasses, dark suit. The wicked witch. For a moment he had difficulty reconciling the Captain with the woman he had once known.

 _Sharon with the long, wild hair and her warm smile._

Not bothering to knock he opened her door and slammed it behind him. That got him the satisfaction of a quickly drawn breath and a moment's unease before she recognised her visitor.

"Lieutenant Flynn, what can I do for you? Sergeant Gabriel was cleared as I'm sure you've already heard," she greeted him evenly.

"What's the name of that kid of yours?"

"Ricky," she answered without thinking, but then she took in Andy's dishevelled appearance, the loose tie and rolled up sleeves, the angry expression on his face, the red face. "Why do you want to know the name of my son?"

"Ricky Raydor, uh?"

"Yes, that's his name. Now, if that's all, I think you can leave now, Lieutenant Flynn."

Sharon was used to their angry interactions, to him shouting and slamming doors. Sometimes he just needed to vent and let off some steam. She had noticed over the years that it helped if she let him do that. Better he lost his temper in her office than he went and beat up or insulted another officer. And that hadn't happened in a long time, not even with these 'idiots in traffic'. His words, not hers.

"Like hell I'm gonna leave. You're gonna sit down and you're gonna talk to me, Sharon! Now!"

The use of her first name wasn't that unusual either – he tended to do that when he was angry. She smiled calmly and gestured at herself. "As you can see, Lieutenant Flynn, I am sitting down rather comfortably and since we're already talking, I suggest you just say what you came to say. Please, do have a seat." Meeting his ire with intentional calm usually worked and she waited, polite smile firmly in place.

"I don't want to sit, I want an explanation. I want to know why you never told me that we had a son, Sharon. God dammit!"

"I beg your pardon?" Sharon wasn't sure she'd heard correctly, but she could feel herself becoming uneasy. Why was he bringing this up now, after almost two decades?

"You know full well what I am talking about. Your son Ricky is our son. I'm the father of your son and you never told me!" Andy spit out, banging his fist on the table.

Sharon wasn't scared of him, but this was going too far. Her voice took on that deadly calm the whole department had come to fear: "Lieutenant Flynn. I find your allegations inappropriate at best. Please remove yourself from my company immediately and I will do you the favour and forget this conversation ever happened."

Sharon's heart was beating fast, despite her apparent calm. It took everything she had to remain this collected in the face of her inner turmoil. How dare he storm into her office and accuse her like that. After all these years when he hadn't once asked? She doubted he would have ever even talked to her again if she hadn't been assigned one of his OIS and they had been forced to interact.

"No! You don't get to pull rank, Sharon. Not in this, not now. We are just two people talking about their son. A son you haven chosen to hide from me."

"You will stop right now, Lieutenant. I don't care whatever makes you think that Ricky is your son, I will hear no more of this."

"You will. You have kept me in the dark for years, but this is it. You won't lie to me anymore!"

"Lieutenant," she said, her icy tone becoming threatening, "Your behaviour towards a superior officer…"

"Stop! Do not make this about rank – this has nothing to do with our work and everything with our private life."

"You are in my office. You are a Lieutenant and I am a Captain. Do you think you can bully me, Lieutenant Flynn, here, in my own office? You will stop this right now or I _will_ report you."

"Fuck protocol, Sharon, go ahead and report me. You know I don't give a shit. I want to know why you hid my son from me all these years. Hell, the boy has no idea I'm his father, does he?"

Sharon could tell he wasn't going to let this go. Maybe she should address this on a personal level. She looked into the deserted squadroom. As agreed, her team had left at the first sound of their raised voices. After a young Elliott, still a Sergeant at the time, had come in trying to rescue her from a screaming Flynn a few years ago, this had been their understanding. The Captain would deal with Lieutenant Flynn and then everybody could get back to work. Her squad respected her too much to ask why, even if she knew they didn't understand the special treatment she was according him. Still, they had to admit that nobody could keep the notorious troublemaker in line the way their Captain could.

She took a deep breath, making sure her face reflected honest confusion and her voice became softer. "What brought this on? What makes you think Ricky would be your son, Flynn?"

She didn't feel like calling him Andy, that would have been too personal. More personal than he deserved after the past two decades of interactions.

"I ran into him outside the building a few minutes ago. Dammit Sharon, he looks exactly like Mario! That boy doesn't even look the slightest bit like Jack. He's so tall and lanky, these dark brown eyes, Sharon. And it's not just my nephew Mario. I have half a dozen other nephews and a son who look like Ricky's brothers!"

"Yes, and?"

"Sharon, how old is Ricky? Seventeen years, right? By my calculations, he's seventeen years and about three months old? Am I right? I am sure you know what happened eighteen years ago? Or do I need to refresh your memory? June 1991."

 _A lavender dress, flowing and fluttering in the wind like her long curly hair, wild and free._

"This is enough!" she interrupted him roughly. How could he? How dare he? "Your allegations are completely baseless. I don't know what's possessed you, but let me assure you, my son Ricky is my husband's son."

"Are you sure? Because I am sure he isn't and I do have a very clear recollection of a night at the beach, you and me."

 _Freckles on her milky skin in the moonlight, the sound of waves._

"Flynn, this is beyond inappropriate."

"Well, at least I am no longer Lieutenant Flynn now. So, you do remember, right? Because I do, and let me tell you, honey, you certainly had your fun with me."

 _Dancing with her in his arms, the long conversations, the tentative touches and soft kisses._

"Stop. I am done discussing this with you. Done! Ricky is my husband's son and that's that."

"Well, we shall see. These days, there are ways and means."

"Are you threatening me, Lieutenant? Are you threatening a superior officer?"

"Yes, pull rank now. Go ahead and do it. That's not going to help you when I get a court order for a DNA test."

"Good luck with that. You are dismissed."

Andy stood up and calmly took out his wallet leafing through its contents until he found what he had been looking for. With a triumphant smile he slammed a photograph on her desk.

„What is that? Is that a picture of Ricky? Why do you have a picture of my son?" Sharon could feel the panic rising in her, her voice breaking and suddenly sounding high. What on earth had he been doing?

She took a deep breath to steady herself and get back into her professional calm. "This behaviour is unacceptable, Lieutenant Flynn. I can deal with you storming in here and screaming your head off, but carrying around a picture of my son?"

"Relax Sharon, that's not a picture of Ricky. Here, take a good look. That's my nephew Mario."

Sharon's hands were shaking when she reached out to take the picture for a closer look.

"Yeah, there you go. They do look alike, eh? Hell, even you thought that it was Ricky!"


	3. Strike Three

**Chapter 2: Strike Three**

 **July 2009**

He had just walked out of her office that day and Sharon hadn't been sure what to expect after that. The resemblance between Ricky and Mario was hard to explain away. No wonder Andy had reached his conclusion so quickly. She waited for a call from him or another visit – but nothing. A week passed, then another one and after a month she was beginning to think that maybe he had lost interest, that his display at her office had been born more out of frustration about the case and FID investigating one of their own, and less out of an actual interest to meet Ricky. Maybe that was for the best. She couldn't exactly picture herself … co-parenting, for lack of a better word … with Andy Flynn of all people. Besides, Ricky was almost an adult and she doubted that Flynn would want to share the cost of sending him to college, and university. Not that she would ever accept that anyway. Ricky was _her_ son, she had raised him by herself up to this point and nobody was going to change that. Nobody, and most certainly not Andy Flynn.

Then she got the call to a Major Crimes roll-out. She frowned when she saw the name of the division investigating the case. Like she always did, she went into Ricky's room, gently running her hand through his unruly hair until he woke up enough to look at her.

"Uh, Mom, time?"

"Hey honey, just wanted to tell you that I've been called to a crime scene so I'm leaving." To go work with the father you don't know yet, she added in her thoughts.

"'kay. Night, Mom, sleep well."

"Ricky, honey, I'm going to a crime scene."

He stared at her. "Yeah, crime scene, got it."

"You'll remember that when you wake up tomorrow."

Ricky nodded and turned away from her mumbling something about ungodly work hours. He was almost an adult now, but there had been a time, just after Emily had left for New York, when he'd found himself alone upon waking up. She would never forget her boy's frantic frightened voice when he finally reached her on her cell. It had gotten better since, and she didn't have too many middle of the night roll-outs anymore, but she kept the habit of always making sure he knew where she was. She smiled and leaned in to place a kiss on his temple. "Sleep well, honey, and have a good day tomorrow if I'm not home in time for breakfast."

"Night, Mom, love you."

Sharon gave herself a few additional moments to look at her sleeping son, blissfully unaware. Hopefully, she'd never have to tell him.

/

"Nurse Ratchett is here and she's got her very own command post," his partner's voice sounded even more grumpy that usual. "Can't that woman leave us alone?"

The hair on Andy's arms stood up when he heard _her_ voice arguing with the chief. After their conversation he hadn't heard from her. Not that that surprised him. She was playing for time. She was devious like that and he knew it – and it pissed him off. This, and her automatic assumptions that these two young officers had made a mistake. He bristled with irritation at her sharp tone and decided to pay her back in kind. He stood as close to her as possible trying to breathe heavily so she would feel his breath on her neck. Well, she probably couldn't with all that hair. That hair that had once … no, she had been lying to him for the past two decades and he was goddamn angry with her! Hell, he was pissed! She didn't give him a response, crossing her arms while her aloof smile remained in place, seeming unfazed by his close proximity. Then she moved and put her hands on her hips and he wasn't sure whether that was intentional, but boy, that move …

They didn't call her the ice queen for nothing. Cool, and controlled. She was good, he had to give that to her. Didn't flinch when that Kretschner guy looked her up and down like some piece of meat, screamed and shouted. No matter what the guy tried, he couldn't get a reaction out of her.

"Is that 'eat me' as in 'I wanna talk' or 'eat me' as in 'I want a lawyer'?" Andy couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. She _always_ had a comeback. Captain Raydor had the last word in pretty much all their fights. If he was being honest with himself, Andy rather liked that. Captain Sharon Raydor. A part of him still couldn't believe that this woman was the mother of his third child, the son whom he still hadn't met. At that thought, he felt the familiar flush of anger rise in his chest. Fuck! He was going to teach her to stall like that!

/

Sharon went straight home after the funeral of Officers Stern and Duran and changed out of her uniform. She hardly wore it these days and it wasn't the most comfortable, nor flattering piece of clothing. It was a hot day and she was off duty for the rest of the day, so she decided on a light summer dress. It was much too informal, and a little too revealing to wear to work, but it would do perfectly for a lazy afternoon on her balcony.

She looked at herself in the mirror trying to remember why something about this dress felt so familiar. That good kind of familiarity that made you feel happy and content without a particular reason. Gavin had given her the dress for her last birthday. That man had a knack for fashion, and an uncanny instinct to find what suited her best. She loved this particular soft shade of very light lilac – it was the perfect colour for summer and she liked the way it contrasted with her hair. Sharon had to laugh at herself standing in front of the mirror and indulging in a moment of vanity. Then she took her hair out of the strict bun that went with the uniform and shook her head vigorously. She didn't look that bad for her age – and the curls certainly did make her look younger.

With a pot of herbal tea and a crime novel she had been meaning to read for ages she stretched out on her chaise longue, looking out over the glistening city. There was a nice breeze and she congratulated herself on having moved into the condo. Her house in the suburbs had been hot, almost unbearably so at this time of year and she remembered the first years with her two small children. She didn't have air-conditioning then and they had spent many a night sleeping out on the porch. Fond memories of gazing at the stars while telling them stories of fairies and galaxies far, far away.

Her quiet contemplation was interrupted by the chirping of her phone. Her brow furrowed when she recognised the number, but she didn't give the caller that satisfaction.

"Captain Raydor."

"Sharon," he started, dropping all formalities and dashing her faint hope that this might only be an official call requesting her presence at a crime scene. "I want to meet my son."

"Lieutenant Flynn, good afternoon to you, too."

"Stop messing around with me. I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm done. I want to meet my son. Now."

"Stop harassing me."

"Hey, hey, why so angry? You've been the one hiding the boy from me – I should be angry."

"I don't know who you think you are, Lieutenant, but this behaviour is inappropriate."

"What do you think is appropriate, then? Tell me Sharon, because I don't know. Sue you? Get a court order for a DNA test?"

" _Appropriate_ would be for you to apologize for your outrageous behaviour and then hang up," she said quietly enunciating every syllable.

"Not gonna happen. What's in that precious rulebook of yours, Captain? I'm sure even that doesn't tell you how I should approach this situation."

"Lieutenant Flynn."

"Ah, I see, this is how you're gonna play this? See, I was thinking I could head over to St. Joseph's after school and meet my son."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Watch me!"

"Andy, please! No. You can't do that to Ricky!"

"Good, at least that got me your attention. Meet me outside your apartment in 15 minutes and we'll go somewhere to talk."

"I don't want to talk to you – and you can't order me around like that."

"Do they still make all students attend Monday morning mass? I'm sure _our_ Ricky is a good boy, and he would go to mass, if only to please his Mama. He is his Mama's boy, isn't he?"

Sharon could feel herself begin to panic. Ricky couldn't find out like this. He would be devastated.

"Andy, please." She hated the pleading sound of her voice. "Please think of Ricky. This is between you and me, not him. He's is a child. Please don't do that to him because you're angry with me."

"Well, honey, that is entirely your choice and the way I see it, you've been stalling. Well, guess what, I'm done waiting!"

Sharon hated to admit it, but he had rattled her this time. How much did he already know about Ricky? And what if he made good on his threat?

Suddenly her doorbell rang, then it was joined by banging on the door.

"What the hell? Flynn?" How did he know where she lived?

"You have a choice, open up the door or I'll kick it in."

"I'm going to report you for trespassing."

"Yes, that's your defence. Now, open up."

"Damn you, Flynn!" she ripped open the door and stared at him, phone still in hand. "Who do you think you are that you can just waltz in here? How do you even know where I live – and what if Ricky was here? How would I explain this to him?"

Andy was speechless, well and truly speechless for the first time in so many years. He opened and closed his eyelids in rapid succession, shaking his head to clear his view. An apparition. This couldn't be. There she was, Sharon.

 _Sharon from the midsummer night's dance._

"So now you've gone quiet? Well, fine, I'm going to close this door and you can go back home."

"Sharon." Something in the tone of his voice made her stop. "Sharon, it's you." Andy couldn't even remember why he had been so angry with her just a minute ago. There she was, the Sharon he had met all these years ago with her lavender summer dress and her curly hair and green eyes. It seemed that he had caught a rather private moment to interrupt her; but his Sharon was still there! Behind the stern façade and the make-up and the black suits of Captain Raydor there was still this woman he'd fallen for so many years ago. He had expected Captain Raydor and instead he was facing _Sharon_ – and Andy couldn't find it in his heart to yell at _her_.

"I don't want to fight with you," he said quietly, pleadingly but that only earned him a raised eyebrow.

"You have an interesting way of showing that."

"Is … is Ricky here?"

"You can thank your lucky stars that he's at school."

"And anyone else?"

"Are you asking me if I am alone? You do realise I can defend myself."

"I … I just want to talk with you, Sharon, and I don't want to interrupt anything. Can you give me some time? Just a few moments?"

Sharon could tell Andy was different. He was still angry, but there was something underneath all that anger. A genuine interest, a sort of concern for her that surprised her.

"Okay, fine, 10 minutes," she said, putting her hands on her hips.

"May I come in? Or can I take you somewhere for a cup of coffee?" Andy was desperate to have a few minutes with her, but he realised that he had gone too far when turning up at her condo unannounced.

Sharon sighed audibly, wishing she could go back to the feeling of contentedness just a few minutes ago on the balcony. No, she decided, she didn't want Lieutenant Flynn here, at her home. She wasn't exactly dressed to go out either, but he had already seen her – and given her a strange look. Not disapproving, and he wasn't ogling her either, it had seemed … wistful, somehow.

"Let me get my purse. There's a small café in the courtyard," she suggested, bending down to slip her feet into her sandals. The café should be relatively empty at this time of day which worked well for her because she didn't want any witnesses to this conversation.

The ride in the elevator was silent, with Andy sneaking secret glances at her. He seemed different now, no longer so angry and intense. She tried a small smile and he smiled back. Captain Raydor and Lieutenant Flynn had never genuinely smiled at each other. Sneered, yes, but smiled? And then she felt a strange feeling, deep in her belly, a memory – and pushed it away decidedly.

"Thank you for coming, Sharon. I appreciate it." That smile! That was the woman he remembered, the way she nodded her head and her curls moved – just like when he had asked her to dance.

"I didn't mean to shout at you, earlier. Sharon, I'm not going to do anything to hurt Ricky, but I would like to know if he is my son. I would like to meet him."

"I need time to prepare him. You know Jack. He wasn't a good father, not by a long shot, but he's the only one Ricky knows. I can't just spring a paternity test on him out of nowhere." Sharon knew the test wasn't necessary, but at the very least it would buy her some time. Time in which to prepare Ricky, talk to him, see what he wanted to do.

"He's only seventeen, Sharon, you could…."

"No! Absolutely not!" she cut him off. "I don't know how you raised your children, but I am certainly not going to lie to my son!" Within a matter of seconds all goodwill seemed to have evaporated and they were back at each other's throats.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to suggest … it's just, if we do the test and we find out that I'm not his father, then you wouldn't even need to tell him."

Sharon was surprised. That was something she hadn't expected from Andy. She smiled, despite herself, and for the second time in the past fifteen minutes. "Andy, I have no doubt the test will show you are Ricky's biological father."

Her sentence hung there between them for a moment, full of meaning. No doubt. She knew. She had always known.

Andy's heart made a little jump: she had called him Andy, she had actually used his first name! "So Ricky _is_ our son. A midsummer night's child."

Sharon nodded, her throat suddenly constricting.

"How much time do you need?"

"What?"

"How much time do you need to prepare Ricky? Sharon, I'm not some monster, I'm his father and I want to meet my son, but I'm not going to just push this on him. You're his mum, you've raised him all his life and … I trust you when you tell me you need time to prepare him."

Sharon nodded, "I don't know. It's not like I've done this before. Can …" she took a deep breath. "Can I call you when we're ready? When Ricky has made up his mind about meeting you?"

Now it was Andy's turn to take a deep breath. "Thank you, Sharon. Thank you for giving me a chance to meet my son."

"Let me be very clear about this, Lieutenant Flynn." The sudden coldness in her look chilled him through to the bone. "I _am_ going to talk to my son, but the choice is his, and I am certainly not going to encourage him to meet with you."


	4. Dead Man's Hand

**Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for your reviews, the favs and follows. I'm really quite blown away by your response. I initially wasn't sure whether I should post this here or over at Major Crimes, but it seems you all found it here anyway - and I'm glad you did. Thank you for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Dead Man's Hand**

 **December 2009**

The setting sun cast its last rays and it was getting chilly on the balcony. Sharon loved her quiet retreat high above the city and its constant buzzing. This was the place she came to when she wanted to get away from it all – and today she had plenty to want to get away from.

Christmas was fast approaching and her condo was already fully decorated – just the way she liked it. Ricky had come home two days ago and gone to the storage unit to bring out his Christmas village and those pine cone elves whose names she always forget. He had also brought another box her favourite angels. She loved Christmas, but it would be another Christmas without Emily – and they both missed her.

Sharon pulled her wrap more tightly around herself and sighed audibly. Allie Moore had played her. One of her own officers had played on her protective instincts – and she had almost been successful. Sharon knew herself well enough. She did have strong protective and maternal instincts which extended to the members of her squad, particularly those whose entire career path she had fostered, followed and chaperoned.

It was little consolation that they had caught Moore in the end, her husband had had still died needlessly. Truth be told, Sharon was furious – not only with herself, but also with Chief Johnson and her uncooperative approach in the whole investigation. There weren't many women of their rank - and their clout - in the LAPD. They were very different women, but Sharon had always been one to see beyond superficial disagreements to what lay behind, to what made a person. It was what made her so good in her work at FID. It was why she had kept Flynn on the force despite his obvious issues with his temper and insubordination – and their shared history. It was why she had closely watched the Deputy Chief and her way of working the latest case. An idea had begun to form in her mind, but she wasn't yet ready to think it through, so she pushed that thought aside and sighed again.

Commander Taylor had moved the photo, but not in time for her to not see the drawing that was on the board. It didn't surprise her. She knew all her nicknames from Wicked Witch to Nurse Ratchett and whatever else was being said about her in the LAPD. Darth Raydor was actually her personal favourite, because she found it rather clever. That, and her children adored it. There had been more than a few Halloweens that saw Ricky in a Darth Vader costume, her mini Darth. Quite ironic seeing as he was a Raydor by name only. She had discovered very early on that her boy had quite a temper: quick to boil over, but equally quick to make amends. Whatever he did, he did with his heart and soul. Sometimes the boy seemed so overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his emotions. She had taken years to help him find other outlets and for the most part, he knew how to control his temper.

She also had a pretty clear idea of who had drawn that picture. Andy. Well, no longer Andy, he hadn't been Andy in decades. Really, he had only been Andy for that one night.

 _Tight stonewashed jeans, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, top buttons open and an irresistible smile. Jet black hair. Sharon hadn't been looking for anyone, and even then the group of guys he hung out with had quite a reputation. She liked that he didn't seem to care about the fashion of the early nineties, none of those overly large jackets and pastel colours. Blue jeans, white shirt and a brown leather jacket that smelled so much like him and felt so wonderfully warm and cosy around her naked shoulders._

It seemed hard to reconcile his gentle touches and infinite tenderness as he explored her body with the man who sneered at her every chance he got and drew her as a witch. But then this was also the man he who had promised her the world and then discarded her. It had been so easy to trust him once and she had trusted him with all her heart. She was sure that initial trust would have turned into so much more given time. Trust, the predecessor to love, given to him so easily. She had trusted him and he had hurt her. And still, something in her yearned to go back to those happy moments.

/

"Lieutenant Flynn, what can I do for you," Sharon greeted him hoping this was a work related call.

"Well, Captain, I was hoping to talk to Sharon." She laughed despite herself and he took that as an encouragement to go on. "How are you doing after today?"

Sharon was surprised at the note of genuine concern in his voice. It sounded warm, free of any aggression or malice. The tone struck a cord deep within her, but the warm feeling was quickly overcome by a memory of those dark days.

No. No! She would _not_ go through that again.

"I know it's hard when an officer we trust turns on us. She was one of yours, Sharon, and she played you. I saw how much you trusted her."

How did he know her so well? She could feel her lips twitching into a small smile, before she realised whom she was talking to and she schooled her features. She had used the past months not only to talk to Ricky, but also go over her initial relationship with Andy Flynn, the unexpected spark that had burned so brightly only to burn out even more quickly.

 _His touch so tender and loving, his whispered words of promises, spoken into her hair in the quiet of the rising sun, his hands never ceasing his caresses making her skin tickle and her soul sing with contentedness. Andy._

"Trust is a necessary part of the job. I regret that a man had to die." She said in her cold, no nonsense voice and could hear him take a deep breath.

"Yes," Andy said hesitatingly, not knowing how to continue.

He _had_ felt for her during the investigations. She had been betrayed by someone she trusted. A part of him had wanted to reach out and put his hand on her shoulder, just briefly, to let her know she wasn't alone. She had stood up for her officer when she had thought her threatened, wanting to protect her from harm. Seeing that protectiveness made him imagine what she was like as a mother to Ricky. Had she ever thought about him while she was raising their son? Had that thought been at the back of her mind every time they argued?

"Sharon, I think you know why I'm calling."

Of course she knew. She had been stalling these past months, hoping he would let it go. Given how intense and aggressive he had acted last summer, she was actually quite surprised he had given her this much time. Her sigh obviously wasn't enough of an answer for him.

"Would you like to do this over the phone or can I come by?"

"Ricky's home for the holidays."

"So that's a no to coming over. The phone then?"

She ran a hand over her face. She was tired and exhausted and still reeling from the discoveries of the past days. She couldn't push away that thought at the back of her mind that her own attitude towards Chief Johnson at the beginning of the investigation had contributed towards the outcome. Maybe it _would_ be good to get out of the condo for a while, forget about work and Allie Moore and Chief Johnson and concentrate on something else. She should have gotten back to Andy weeks ago, but she had stalled wanting to keep Ricky to herself just a little bit longer.

"Are you already in the area? Please tell me you're not ready to bang on my door again?"

"What? After you almost had me arrested last time? No, I've just left work."

"Any suggestions for a good Italian place somewhere in between?"

"Lady, you do know who you're talking to, right? I'm gonna get us a table and then text you the address."

"Alright. I will see you there then."

That had been remarkable easy. They had these moments when they fell back into that easiness of interaction they had once briefly shared. Had she really just agreed to dinner with Andy Flynn? Well, it looked like he was about to become a more permanent fixture in her personal life, so she had better get to know him beyond their interactions at work. Hell, if Andy was going spend time with _her_ son, she had better get to know him as well as possible.

Andy was waiting for her at the table and got up to pull out her chair, ever the perfect gentleman.

"Thanks for agreeing to see me – and I'm sorry about what happened with Allie Moore. I know she was one of yours."

Sharon nodded in acknowledgement. She was only noticing now how hungry she was.

"Tell me, what is this place famous for?"

"Everything. Good old-fashioned recipes. Food just like my nonna used to make. I personally love their pizzas and you might want to save some space for dessert."

Sharon hummed in acknowledgement and scanned the menu. Many of her personal favourites and a good selection of wine. This was just what she needed to unwind, a glass or two of a crisp white wine. Then she remembered her company and only just managed to suppress a sigh.

"Please go ahead and order wine or whatever you'd like to have with that, Sharon."

"You're okay with me drinking in front of you?"

"Very. I've been sober for thirteen years – I actually had my anniversary just a few weeks ago."

Mercifully, their drinks and food arrived quickly and Andy drove right into the topic he had come to discuss with her.

"I was wondering how things with Ricky are going. Have you told him yet?"

"I have – and I also have the test results. You're Ricky's biological father." Sharon wasn't sure what she had expected, but not this, not this smile on Andy's face that spoke of pure happiness and joy while he seemed positively flustered.

"I … oh wow. I mean, you already said you were pretty sure. But now it's real. We have a son."

A part of her vehemently objected to Andy calling Ricky his son. He was _her_ son, _she_ had given birth to him and raised him by herself, s _he_ had cheered him on the sports field, _she_ had comforted him when he scraped his knee and had his heart broken for the very first time. But she didn't say any of that. What counted was Ricky and what he wanted.

Andy was still talking excitedly, "I really want to meet him, Sharon. I promise you, I don't want to stir up any trouble, I just want to meet Ricky and get to know him."

"Ricky wants to meet you, too."

"So he knows I'm his dad?"

"Yes. Well, he knows you're his biological father."

"How did he react?"

It was strange, this sudden familiarity. Talking about their son who was now acknowledged to be just that, their son. She laughed and looked directly at him.

"Let's just say you'd have recognised yourself."

"That bad?"

"Well, that fiery temper sure doesn't come from my side of the family."

"Thank you, Sharon."

"You're welcome," she replied reflexively, but then she looked at him. "Thank you for what?"

"For the acknowledgement," he said smiling and she was overcome by a memory so intense she had to close her eyes for a moment to regain her composure.

 _The smile and his voice. The way he looked at her so intently, hanging onto her every word. He warmth and comfort of his jacket around her shoulders mixed with a scent that was uniquely him._

"Oh, okay. Well, you … it's not just the temper Andy. There are so many more things, little mannerism, the way you frown when you're upset. I … well, you'll find out for yourself."

"Will I?"

"You said you wanted to meet Ricky. I assume that is still the case?"

"Of course! But you haven't said yet whether you'd like that to happen."

"Frankly, Andy, I don't. Jack was a crappy father – and look at you, are not exactly the father figure a teenager can look up to."

The easy familiarity had turned into any icy cold.

Sharon knew that had come out all wrong. She had wanted to phrase this more politely, but deep down, she was scared that Andy would disappoint Ricky the same Jack had, that he would break her son's heart the way he had broken hers all these years ago.

"That was harsh, even for you, Sharon."

"You're not the man I aspire my son to turn into." Which was true.

"No? Am I not? Well, lady, you sure have a track record when it comes to choosing your children's fathers. Don't go blaming me for your bad taste in men. That is all on you, dear." Andy was hurt and he was lashing out to hurt her just as badly.

"And that wasn't low, Flynn?"

"Why are we here then, Sharon? Did you just come to trade insults?"

"You asked for this meeting, remember? Andy, Ricky _wants_ to meet you – and it's his decision. He's almost eighteen years old, if he wants to meet you, I'm not going to stand in the way of that. I … I just ask that you be … considerate, and that you put Ricky's best interests first." Like she had always done, like she was doing now even if it hurt.

Andy swallowed hard. The woman sitting across from him was the mother of his son, she was a mother concerned about her son. This couldn't be easy for her. And yet for some miraculous reason, she trusted him enough. Maybe it was time to repay some of that in kind.

"Would you like to be there when we first meet?"

"Ricky has asked that I not be," she said sadly and barely managed to hold back the tears, choking and pushing herself up from her seat. "I'm sorry, I can't do this."

"Sharon, sweetheart…"

God, where had that come from? Had he really almost called her sweetheart? He had never called her sweetheart, not even then. Hell, he hadn't even had time to find a name for her, her name had been enough. _Sharon._

He watched her run out of the restaurant covering her mouth with her hand.

He had failed to see how difficult this would be for her. Who was he to her? A police officer with a reputation that preceded him, the resident hothead, the man who went and screamed at people, who threatened suspects? Hell, he'd hardly ever had a civil conversation with Sharon and she was willing to trust him with her son. Or maybe she didn't trust him. She trusted her son, trusted Ricky. Andy found himself hoping that, just for Sharon's sake, Ricky would have asked her to be there for their first meeting.

Sharon barely made it to her car before the tears were running down her cheeks. When had her life become so complicated? Just when she thought it might all get a little easier. She'd sold the house after Emily moved out and settled into the condo, starting to prepare for a life without her children at home. Ricky's difficult teenage years were over and he was at a college up North. For the first time in a good two decades, she was alone and she had been looking forward to having a chance at a life for herself, maybe even a chance at the companionship and love she had gone without for so many years.

None of that looked even remotely likely now. Why on earth had Andy chosen this moment to show an interest in Ricky when he had never shown any before? She had worked until the day Ricky was born and her pregnancy had been impossible to overlook. For months, Flynn had completely disappeared. She'd heard that he was back in town about six months into her pregnancy when Jack and her had broken up. She'd heard of him, but had never actually seen him until years later when Ricky was just starting in pre-school and throwing one temper tantrum after another and she had found his file on her table. A simple OIS, fairly straight forward. They had argued, his temper had flared in the same way she had been witness to just a few hours previously at home with her son. Andy's file had quickly become a familiar sight on her desk after that.

And now? Now she wished it had all stayed the same. Being abandoned by his father had been so hard on Ricky. He had needed a father more than Emily. Emily, her little princess who'd found her calling so early and left home still a child to follow her dreams. Ricky was different. He was more sensitive than Emily. There were times when she had cursed not knowing Andy better. She wished she could have spoken to his mother, to ask her for advice. Andy was a passionate and complicated man, she could tell that much from their interactions. He had been so different that night though, tender and sweet and attentive in a way she had not at all expected. She could still recall entire parts of their conversation, and she'd liked the way he spoke and what he talked about. She'd also liked his smile, and the way he smelled, but this, the conversation, that was what still stood out as special to her – and made the pain that followed even more acute, and more difficult to bear.

She couldn't blame Ricky for wanting to meet his biological father. He'd definitely pulled the short straw with Jack and she could understand that he reached for this new opportunity. They'd had a conversation, back when he was fifteen, when he'd asked her why he was so different from his father and … she hadn't been able to say much. It seemed that the discovery that he _wasn't_ Jack's son had given him a little lift and she was proud of him for saying he wanted to meet Andy. Proud of him for wanting to know him, and for being brave enough to do it without her. But she was also his mother, and she worried because she wouldn't be there to protect him.

Sharon rested her head against the steering wheel and let her tears flow, unaware of the man who was watching her trying to decide what to do.


	5. Coward

**Chapter 4: Coward**

 **December 2009**

Christmas was a week away and Andy still hadn't gotten any presents for his children. They probably wouldn't even read his card, but he had always given them presents, and he wouldn't stop now. Still, when Ricky had called him, short and business-like, sounding so much like his mother, determined but impeccably polite, Andy had agreed to the first possibility the boy suggested. They met the next morning at a café in the vicinity of Ricky's home. It was quiet on a Sunday morning and Andy had no doubt that it had been Sharon's choice. She knew Ricky would be safe, and she'd be nearby to intervene in case he needed her.

Andy found himself sitting across from Ricky Raydor; Sharon's boy through and through and yet in some way his, also. The physical resemblance with his family was obvious, but in the end, how much did genes really matter? Sharon had raised Ricky – alone. He on the other hand had only just turned up and demanded to meet him. Well, not only just, it had been half a year since that faithful week when Gabriel shot a dirtbag, Sharon turned up at a crime scene all black trenchcoat and 'Lieutenant Flynn, I'm a little busy' and Andy had run into the young man who he thought was his nephew.

"Hi Ricky, I'm Andy Flynn, but you can call me Andy if you like."

The boy raised an eyebrow and silently gave him a once over. Then he hummed.

Andy was lost. This kid might look like him, but for everything else, he was his mother. The appraising look, the hum. That was as Sharon.

"Mr Flynn."

Dammit, even the way he said his name sounded like her! A younger male version of the ice queen, that's what she had turned his son into!

"You're the one who mistook me for this other kid, last summer outside the station."

"Yeah, that was me."

"Is that why you're looking to get into contact with me now?"

Hadn't Sharon told the boy about this? Dammit, he should have talked to her more and asked her more questions. But they hadn't seen each other again after their dinner at the Italian place that had ended with Sharon in tears.

/

Andy remembered how he had watched her, bent forward, head resting on the steering wheel, shoulders shaking. It had looked as though she was crying. _Sweetheart._ He had called her sweetheart, a word that seemed to have come from deep within him without conscious thought.

He never did walk over to her car. Instead, he kept watch in the shadows until she finally drove off and followed her until he knew she was safely home. He had watched her silently, just like he had done eighteen years ago when he had returned to Los Angeles.

This time, he had at least texted her later on.

 _Hope you got home ok. Waiting to hear back from you or Ricky about meeting him. Andy_

He had thought about what to write.

 _Sharon, I'm so sorry._

Well, he wasn't, if he was being honest. He wanted to see his son! And damn her for hiding him all these years!

 _I'm sorry I didn't see how hard this is on you, too, Sharon. Maybe I can take you out for a cup of coffee when you're feeling better so we can talk more?_

Hell, no! Even if part of him wanted nothing more than to reach out and just pull her into his arms, smell that sweet familiar smell and bury his face in her hair. She had lied to him all these years! Damn woman! She was manipulating him just like Chief making suspects believe she was some stupid blonde from the South until they trusted her enough so she could move in for the kill. Well, her tears didn't work on him! He wanted to see his son and he wouldn't give up!

/

"Yeah," Andy confirmed. "Is it okay if I call you Ricky – or do you prefer something else?"

"Well, that is my name, Mr Flynn."

The boy sure wasn't going to make this easy on him. Andy felt like meeting his ex-wife's parents for the first time. Nervous, under observation, entirely unsure what to say.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Ricky. I understand this … whole situation … is news to you as well?" Andy indicated them awkwardly, desperately trying to find the right words.

"This situation?" Ricky imitated Andy's earlier gesture and raised his eyebrow again. "Mr Flynn, the way I see it is if you sleep with a girl and she gets pregnant, you take responsibility. Fair and square. You don't let a woman raise your kid without any support, you step up."

Ricky had thought about this long and hard. It wasn't that finding out about his mum's unfaithfulness or affair or whatever it was had shocked him. Well, initially it had, but he and Emily had often speculated whether their mother had a lover or someone special. She might be their mother, but they could see she was an attractive woman, and Jack was a crap excuse of a husband, and they wanted her to be happy. There had been a number of men over the years, most notably from their church and even the father of one of Emily's friends.

"I agree with you, I should have taken responsibility."

"And yet, you didn't." The Raydor glare. Andy had seen this too many times over the desk in Sharon's office, but the experience only served to further unnerve him as he found himself beginning to squirm under the continued glare of his son.

"No, I didn't."

"In my eyes that makes you a coward."

"I agree with you."

"Then, eighteen years later, you decide you want to meet me."

"Ricky, how much as your mother told you?"

"Leave my mother out of this, Mr Flynn! I want to know why you suddenly decide that now is a good time to meet your biological son."

"Because the truth is, I didn't know you were my son."

Ricky snorted derisively. "That's bullshit! You're LAPD, there is no way you didn't notice my mother was pregnant right after you two … you know …" Imagining it was bad enough, but actually saying it out loud?

"I left LA for a few months and by the time I came back your mother had reconciled with her husband."

"That is the most bullshit excuse I have ever heard! Fuck! You don't just go and knock up a girl and then leave her! Did you ever even talk to my mother? Did you ever ask her if the child she was carrying was yours?"

"I didn't."

"Coward. You are a goddamn coward. I have one father who is a gambler, an alcoholic and a cheater and the other one turns out to be a fucking coward."

"Ricky, how much has your mother told you about me?"

"I've seen enough. Goodbye, Mr Flynn, you can go back to where you came from!"

And then Ricky stood up and walked out without even looking back. Andy's glance caught on the clock on the opposite wall. He had barely spent 10 minutes with his son, and the boy was already gone.

"Ricky!" he called, but got no more response from the boy who walked away at a brisk pace. Strutting like his mother did.

"Fuck!"

/

The moment Ricky left the apartment Sharon had started pacing. She tried to calm herself by making a pot of her favourite tea, reading a book, she even looked for a movie to watch, but nothing had helped. Ricky had been so calm that it almost scared her after the initial explosion when she had first told him.

"What the hell? You're saying you got yourself knocked up by some random stranger? And then you lied to me _and_ to Dad _all this time_? Who the fuck are you?"

It had hurt, and Sharon had let him scream and shout for what seemed like forever. She knew him well enough not to try and reach him while he was so upset. She had tried not to take the words spoken in anger and fear personally, but she had smarted from his remarks for days after.

"I'm going out for a run," he had finally shouted and almost pulled the door out of the hinges, but she had breathed a sigh of relief. Running was his number one coping strategy and experience told her he'd be back in a much calmer mood. When he had come back, he had surprised her by pulling her into a right hug.

Later they had sat down together and talked, Ricky asking questions she did her best to answer. A night with a fellow police officer who she hadn't seen again until Ricky was three years old, the discovery of her pregnancy, the break-up with Jack when she was about six months along. Ricky had listened to her with that same intent expression she knew from her own brothers and the next day he had informed her that he wanted to meet his biological father.

"Mom, I'm home!" Sharon's thoughts were quickly pulled back to the present and her heart suddenly became hard with fear.

"Ricky, honey, how did it go?" She tried not to let the anxiety show in her voice.

"The Flynn guy is a bad as Jack. Fucking coward."

"Richard, language."

"Trust me, Mom, I'm reserving my 'language' for special occasions and this is one. Good riddance if you ask me. That guy's a fucking coward. He treated you like shit, dammit! He knew you were pregnant, but he never even asked if he'd gotten you pregnant. He had his fun with you and then he left you. What a goddamn asshole!"

"Richard, please."

"No, Mom! I don't know what I was thinking, I don't know what I was hoping to get out of this. That guy's no better than Jack. I'm not going to see him again."

Impulsively, Sharon wrapped her arms around her son and pulled him close. "I'm sorry, Ricky. I so wish things were different."

"It's not your fault, Mom. Emily and I have you, that's what counts. I don't need a father, I'm happy for things to stay the way they are."

Sharon hummed and then pulled back to look at her youngest. She wasn't sure what she had been hoping for either. If she'd had her way, she wouldn't have let Andy meet Ricky at all and luckily, Ricky didn't look too upset. He was angry on her behalf, but it didn't seem like the meeting with Andy had hurt him beyond that.

"Let's go sit down," she indicated the couch and they took their places next to each other. A wave of pride swept through her when she looked at her son. He had been so brave to meet with Andy Flynn and it seemed that he hadn't taken long at all to see right through him.

"You decide whether you want to continue to get to know Andy Flynn further or not. It's entirely your choice, Ricky."

"So you're not making me?"

"No, Ricky, I'm not making you meet him if you don't want to."

"And … can he force us? I mean, the guy's my biological father, right?"

"You're almost eighteen years old, Ricky, and once you are it'll all be up to you. You'll be an adult and nobody can force you to meet him. Until then, he could theoretically sue me for visitation rights while you're still a minor."

"Yeah, but suing people takes time, doesn't it?" There were some things Ricky had learned from Jack, even if he detested the guy.

"It does, and you'll be eighteen in less than three months. It's highly unlikely a court would grant visitation rights at this stage, particularly if you state that you don't want to see him. He never was a part of your life. So no, he might try, but he won't be able to force you to do anything."

"Okay. So I don't have to spend time with him?"

"Highly unlikely."

Ricky rolled his eyes, "You're always so overly correct, Mom! You're sure you won't make me see him?"

"I'm sure, very sure. Meeting with Andy Flynn and getting to know him is entirely your choice. I will support you either way, just like I told you during our initial discussion."

"But you do have a preference, don't you?"

She had to laugh and ran a hand through his unruly hair, "Oh Ricky, when did you get to know me so well? I agree he's no better father than Jack. But whether you like it or not, Andy Flynn is your biological father and that means that you have inherited some traits from him. Honey, it might be good to get to know him so you can understand yourself a little better, learn about your heritage. I want to be honest with you. I never approached him to tell you I was pregnant or that you were his son."

"Did you always know – even before you did the paternity test? I mean, you said last time you were almost completely certain the test would be positive."

"I've always known, honey."

"Okay, so you've known. But a pregnancy isn't something you can hide and if I slept with a girl," Ricky cringed inwardly for the second time that day imagining his mother and Andy Flynn, "and saw she was pregnant, I would talk to her. I would ask her if the baby she's carrying is mine. There's no excuse for not doing that."

"I agree, there isn't."

That was the bit she herself had never been able to really understand. Why had Andy never talked to her again? Not even to ask about the father of her baby, but just to say hello. In fact, he hadn't spoken to her until that OIS years later. She had seen him watch her a few times during her pregnancy, lurking in the shadows, averting his eyes every time she tried to make eye contact. She had been looking for him for months before that, trying to find him to tell him about their child but when he had finally resurfaced, he had completely ignored her.

It had been as though their night had never even happened. Not calling back a one night stand was something she would have maybe understood, but it had seemed like they had something more. Some so unique and special that to this day she would occasionally dream about talking to the young Andy Flynn and dancing in his arms. Her younger self had fallen for Andy long before they had even kissed. He had understood her like nobody else before, or since, and looked right through to her deepest, most hidden parts and to this day she would wake up from these dreams with a deep sense of belonging that faded as reality slowly caught up with her.


	6. Tangled Emotions

**Chapter 5: Tangled Emotions**

 **December 2009**

Like mother like son.

They had both left him behind. The one so upset that she had seemed like she barely managed to hold back the tears, the other calm despite his obvious anger, and disappointed in him, his father.

Oh dammit! Why hadn't he at least talked to Sharon all those years ago? Why had he never told her why he disappeared for so long in the first place? Would it have made a difference? The past years Andy had been full of anger and spite, fighting with her every chance he got and still finding some sort of rest after their meetings. Whether they were kissing or talking or fighting, there had _always_ been something about her that just spoke to him and seemed to touch his very soul.

He could have loved her, of that he was sure. He could have loved her for the rest of his life. Now that the memories of their first meeting were back, all the feelings he had tried to erase and cover with anger were coming back as well. Sharon. She who had reigned over his dreams for all these years. No amount of pursuing other women had ever let him forget her – and God knew he had tried. They might have numbed the pain, just like the alcohol had before, but they had never been the solution. Somehow, it was even worse now. Now that he had rediscovered what she had once meant to him, he could no longer hate her.

What about Ricky? What about his son – their son? At least they had met, he had finally laid eyes on his son and talked to him – and he liked the kid. There was a lot of Sharon in him for sure. It was to be expected if she was the only parent he'd ever known. Polite, calm … cold, judging. Andy's jaw clenched and he slammed his hand into the wall, and again, and again, and again, until it hurt so much he had to stop. Cold and judging like his mother. He could see so much of Sharon in him. What he loved, what riled him up and in the end, this really was _their_ son. _Their son._

Not that he could fault the boy for what he had said. Not for a single word. Hell, if some guy had done that to his sister or, God forbid, his daughter, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have kept it together as well as Ricky had. In fact, he would have punched the guy in the face. More than once and never mind the consequences. Ricky had calmly stood up for his mother and he had been brave enough to face him by himself. Andy found his heart swelling with pride at _his son_.

Sharon had said that there was a lot of him also in Ricky. And not just the temper. Not just the bad stuff. It had helped to hear that and Andy was so grateful that she had told him. It would have been only too easy to reduce his heritage to his faults of character. A memory suddenly overcame him of Sharon's voice right at his ear, their arms around each other in a slow dance late at night, her lips moving against his skin.

"Andy, don't ever let anyone define you by your faults. You've made mistakes, but it is never too late to make amends and change and do better. Look at yourself, and look at all sides. I've met a man tonight who has a lot of inner strength, who knows what is going wrong in his life and how he can fix it."

"Rehab," he had whispered voicing out lout what he had known for months if not years: his drinking was out of control.

"That sounds like a great first step." Her breath warm in his hair.

"Showing my family that they can rely on me."

"Yes." A gentle squeeze of her arms.

"I'm not sure I can do that, Sharon."

"I _know_ that you can, Andy. Look for the strength inside yourself. I know it's there. _I know_."

She had put her hand on his chest then and it had felt like fire burning through him. An all consuming fire that would refine him and make him a new man. He had pulled her closer then and pressed a kiss into her hair.

"I'll try."

And that had been the first time in his life as an alcoholic that he had ever believed he could beat his addiction.

Sharon had been right. Andy _had_ found the strength to stay sober. His family was another matter: they still weren't talking and the few times he saw them, it was only his daughter Nicole who looked at him like a stranger and seemed to barely tolerate him and his ex-wife Joanne as openly hostile as she had been when she had first thrown him out of their home. But he did have his sobriety, the one thing he had stuck with over the years. His sobriety and his fights with Sharon that had almost taken on a ritualistic character. If he was being honest with himself, he had sometimes sought them out deliberately. Fighting and arguing with her had left him feeling better than many a polite conversation with others.

Like mother like son.

This was the second time he had been left in a restaurant. The first time he had carefully followed Sharon home to make sure she would be safe. He had tried to do the same with Ricky, but by the time he had settled the bill, the boy had been gone already. So he had walked to the condo and waited around outside for a while before finally deciding to go home.

/

Maybe it was the innocence of youth or being home for the holidays, but after their conversation Ricky had excused himself to catch up with some friends.

His mother didn't fare quite so well. Sharon curled up on her bed and stared at the wall. Maybe everything would go back to normal now. But then she shouldn't have encouraged Ricky to get to know Andy better. No, it looked like Lieutenant Flynn would be a fixture in her personal as well as her work life now. She wondered briefly if he would be banging on the door next demanding to see her – or Ricky. With a sigh she put her glasses on her nightstand and pulled a pillow against her chest, allowing her thoughts to drift.

When she had first met him, Andy made her believe that there were still men who understood her. That night he had woken something within her that she had tried to bury so deeply: the desire to fall in love again. Jack had broken her in those few early years of their marriage and made her withdraw from any possibility of love.

Then Andy had come and literally swept her off her feet with her even noticing it. It hadn't been a whirlwind or crazy passion taking over, every touch, every look, every kiss had felt deliberate, and so right. She remembered how he had pulled her closer during their dances until her arms had snaked around his neck and she had pressed herself against him, letting her face rest against the side of his neck. They had never stopped talking and the more they had talked, the more she had felt drawn to him. She had trusted him instantly. Trusted him to be gentle, not in the physical sense because when they had at last made love, it had been intense and passionate, very, very passionate, but to be mindful of her and her heart. She had felt protected in an emotional sense. Physical protection had never been anything she had craved. But this sense of emotional safety had been so unique. And it hadn't come from her parents, but from a man.

His disappearance, then his return when he kept watching her from afar, but ignored her tentative smiles had hurt her more than Jack ever had. It had cut so deep that she had only made it through because of her children, little Emily and the baby Andy and her had created that night.

"Your father might scorn us," she had told her unborn child while lying awake in bed at night, "but I love you and I promise you, I'll always be there for you. I'm going to be your mother, and your father, and you shall never want. Your sister Emily, you and me we're going to be a family." That was how her life had turned out: a family of three with a bond of love and trust so strong that they had stayed close even after Emily had left home so early.

And now Andy Flynn had to go march into her life again. Not as the troublesome Lieutenant she'd learned to handle well over the years, but as the father of the son he had never shown any interest in. The paternity test had only confirmed what she had long known to be true. Jack might have believed her when she had told him that he had simply been too drunk to remember sleeping with her, and he had been - but she had never believed that.

Now Andy was back and the walls she had built around her heart were starting to crumble despite herself. In a moment of weakness she had allowed the memories of hopes and feelings to resurface – and on the heels of that had come the pain. By God, Andy had hurt her worse than Jack ever had. She just could not fall for him again. She wasn't sure how she would cope with another betrayal.

Sharon knew her son, and his father. They were both stubborn and determined. Ricky would reach out to Andy again, and Andy wouldn't let the matter rest either.

How was she supposed to do this?

Just then, she felt the vibrations of her phone. Without her glasses she couldn't see the caller ID.

"Captain Raydor speaking. How may I help you?"

"I…Sharon, I just wanted to make sure Ricky got home okay."

She should have looked. Now she would need to talk to him. "Yes, he made it home safely."

"That … thank you, Sharon. That's all I wanted to know. Has he talked to you? It … it didn't go so well."

Sharon took a deep breath. If he insisted on raising this with her, she would give him a piece of her mind and make sure he knew where he stood.

"I meant what I said last time we talked. I'm not going to stand in the way, if Ricky wants to have a relationship with you. That's his decision and if he asks for my support, I'll gladly give it. However, that does _not_ mean I'm going to facilitate you in any way, Flynn. You decided to come back into our lives after almost two decades. You figure it out."

It felt good, and empowering to put him into his place like that and to let out some of her anger.

"Sharon…" His voice was tentative and she ploughed right on determined to make the most of the moment.

"Do not interrupt me, Flynn! And while we're at it, there's one more point I'd like to make. I heard you at the restaurant and that term was _entirely_ inappropriate. No matter how your relationship with Ricky goes, you will never ever have a place in my life beyond that. Do I make myself clear? You will stop using any terms of endearment with me."

Gosh, that felt good!

"I'm sorry, Sharon. I promise you it didn't mean anything, it just slipped out."

With these few words her triumph turned into pain and the tears were beginning to sting in her eyes. She only just managed to hold back a sob, but her voice remained pure steel, "And from now on you will address me as Captain Raydor. Goodbye Lieutenant Flynn."

She hung up and threw the phone down on the bed as the last of her composure crumbled.

" _It just slipped out."_

How could she have allowed herself to believe that he had changed?

His voice had echoed through her head ever since their meeting at the restaurant. _"Sweetheart."_

Like he had called her when they were falling asleep on the beach. " _Goodnight, sweetheart."_ And she had responded by burrowing closer into his embrace, humming, beginning to dream.

Just like she had after that evening in the restaurant.

" _It didn't mean anything."_

Not now, not then.

But it hurt just as much.


	7. A Midsummer Night's Dream

**Chapter 6: A Midsummer Night's Dream**

 **June 22** **nd** **1991**

Midsummer in LA and some of the younger officers at the LAPD had come up with the idea of staging a midsummer celebration. It wasn't anything formal, just a club on the beach they hired for the night and everyone who heard about it by word of mouth was welcome. Officer Johannsen from Narcotics had talked about it one night to Andy, how it was something they did back in Sweden, a fun tradition. Hell, as far as he was concerned, any excuse for a party was fine. As long as there was booze.

Sharon had heard about it, too, but quickly dismissed it. She wanted to spend the night at home with her daughter Emily. She saw little enough of her as it was now that she had gone back to work full time, trying to provide for her little girl and herself while her husband was absent, drinking and squandering her money. Well, at least he couldn't do that anymore, because she had finally gotten a separate bank account and informed the bank that she was no longer guaranteeing for any of Jack's accounts or overdrafts. It wasn't a formal separation, but it had made life a little easier for her and she was finally having some space to breathe. She had been looking forward to going home early and playing with her baby girl.

But Sharon's best friend Juliet had convinced her to come, helped her pick out a dress and badgered her to get a babysitter for Emily. "Make sure it's someone who can keep her all night," she had recommended, knowing how those parties could be. Sharon had entrusted Emily to her neighbour with a daughter of the same age. The two women had become friends of sorts and often helped each other out with their children, but her heart still broke a little every time she had to let her daughter go. She made sure to hold her little girl and tell her that mummy loved her very much and that she would be back by morning.

With some excitement, Sharon got ready in her small bathroom, putting on lingerie she hadn't worn since before her pregnancy and a summer dress she had bought a while ago because she wanted to have something that was nice and just for her. Not utilitarian, not because she needed it, but because she wanted it and it made her look pretty. She washed her hair and fluffed it up, content with the way the many layers fell, thick even at the bottom where it almost reached her hips. She had always loved her hair and no matter how busy her life had been these past few months with little Emily to look after and Jack gone, presumably for good this time, she had promised herself that she would not cut off her hair just to make things easier for her. She put some money, car keys and make-up in her small bag. The colour and style didn't really go with the dress, but it couldn't be helped. She slipped into the only pair of light formal shoes, the ones she had gotten married in, but that didn't seem too matter much anymore today, and they went well with the dress and were comfortable. If she was going to go through the effort of dressing up and leaving her daughter alone, she was determined to enjoy herself.

The party was already in full-swing when Juliet and Sharon arrived. Police Officers off duty listening to the latest music, enjoying a drink, a few couples here and there. When her eyes caught a tall dark haired man sitting at the bar, she flashed him a quick smile and he smiled back. Her stomach felt funny, but she didn't think much of it.

Andy couldn't say why he approached her. She was pretty, not in the conventional way and certainly not the prettiest. There were a lot of pretty girls there that night. She had nice legs though, a really nice smile, and he loved the long, wavy hair. He had always loved long hair, ever since his mother had let him play with her hair as a small boy. He remembered his older sister teaching him how to braid it. So yes, the long hair was certainly something he had noticed about her. He liked to dance and it seemed so did she. She was graceful and the way she held her body spoke of her training. So when she came back to the bar to get another drink, something rather colourful with an umbrella and a slice of pineapple, he approached her.

"Hey, I'm Andy, care to trade that drink for a dance?"

She closed her lips around the straw while looking at him – and he noticed for the first time that she had bright green eyes.

"Hmm, Andy. What tells me I'm going to make a good trade?"

"I am," he said and laughed while she took another sip of her drink and scrunched up her nose. "I have a feeling that concoction isn't going to be hard to beat."

They started talking and soon they were both laughing, Sharon's drink forgotten on the counter.

"Well, Andy, and there I was thinking you wanted to dance with me and yet we've been talking and talking."

Without warning he took her hands and pulled her with him to the dancefloor. Sharon stumbled, but he caught her around her waist and laughed. "You sure seem eager now."

It felt a bit as if they had done this before. They fit together and Sharon, who found it terribly hard to dance with a new partner, was comfortable letting Andy take the lead. She enjoyed the way he swirled her around, his arms strong and solid, without ever being overbearing.

"You should've told me you're such a good dancer."

"Competitive ballroom and Latin dancing in my teens."

"Well, there's a surprise."

"What's your secret, Sharon?"

"Ballet – and I was very, very competitive."

"How does a ballerina become a police officer? You're part of the force, aren't you?"

Sharon would never know why she told him the story of her life then, that this was just an interim, that she wanted to become a lawyer after her husband had finished his studies. She had only had that one drink, well, not more than half of it and a beer earlier, so she wasn't drunk, but it seemed so easy to talk to Andy. He talked about his marriage, his children, how his wife had divorced him and wouldn't let him see his kids.

The music changed, now loud and intense, no longer suited to their style of dancing, so they walked away a little and continued talking. His alcoholism came up. He had only just begun admitting to himself that he might have a problem, and Sharon talked about Jack and how he had left her, and their daughter, to fend for themselves. How he came by occasionally, spent a night, then left again.

Andy found it easy to talk to her and open up. She didn't judge him, although she could have. She should have: she was living the other side of his life. Granted, he had never gambled their money away, but it wasn't like he had been home much to help raise his children. And then Sharon told him to go to rehab, go to AA and get his life back together. Told him of rehab facilities, and how to get in – and she struck a cord. She was talking to him in a way nobody ever had before. Well, it was the same information, but the way she talked to him was like she spoke right into his heart. He'd had a few glasses of bourbon earlier on in the night, but not enough to make him tipsy. When they got thirsty, Sharon went to the bar and came back with two pink drinks.

"Try this. It was my favourite when I was pregnant and I'm still quite partial to it."

"Sharon, I don't know."

"Come on, I gave your dancing a shot earlier, too."

Andy took a sip, then another one watching her over the rim of his glass. He felt like he had known her forever, those sparkling green eyes and the way her whole face lit up when she smiled.

She hummed – a sound he would never again forget. "Not that bad, uh?"

"What _is_ this?"

"Grenadine and soda. They don't have cranberry, you'd probably like that even better. It's less sweet."

Some of Andy's friends came over and talked to them briefly, but they noticed quickly that Andy was only interested in this new girl he'd found.

"You're in IA, aren't you? You're the new one?" Well, new wasn't exactly right. Sharon had transferred just over a year ago when Jack had first left.

"You're Koslowsky's little prodigy." It was good-natured teasing. The whole force stood in awe, well shock and awe to be precise, of Lieutenant Maia Koslowsky, highest ranking woman in the LAPD at the time. IA was run by a Chief, but everyone knew it was Koslowsky who was really pulling the strings. Maia was Sharon's role model.

"And you must be those trouble makers down in Traffic." The worst kind of insult she could have thrown at the proud officers she knew to be in Robbery Homicide. In return they teased Andy for drinking girly cocktails now and Sharon winked telling them about a secret ingredient only she knew about. They lost interest after a while.

Andy didn't know exactly how it happened. The ordered another round of Sharon's special cocktail and danced some more, to slower music this time and her arms found her way around his neck while he pulled her close to him. Her hair smelled like fruit and she hummed when he slipped one of his hands under the soft strands and started caressing her neck and shoulders. On a normal night, he would have been wasted by this time, sitting in a corner with his buddies drinking shots or nursing a bourbon. He liked this feeling of knowing what was going on, his increased awareness. Sharon's body, warm, close to his. Her arms around his neck, the feeling of her hair and soft skin under his fingers and the smile. She had a really lovely, very wide smile and then she came even closer and rested her head in the crook of his neck. It felt oddly intimate. Well, it was intimate. Intimate without being sexual. He turned his head into her hair and heard her hum again. Maybe she had been right. Maybe he could really do this sobriety thing.

They walked out to the beach companionably, Sharon's arm looped through Andy's, still talking. Talking. Just talking. He noticed her shiver and offered her his leather jacket wrapping it around her making sure she was warm. She hummed again, the sound captivating him like it had been all night, and leaned into him. He didn't take his arm away from her shoulder after that and she smiled at him, continuing to hum as they talked.

Later Andy offered to get a blanket from his car. It wouldn't have happened the way it did if it hadn't been one of those unusually hot summer nights. Midsummer Night and it still wasn't completely dark. Not that LA ever got dark anyway. He laid out the blanket and pulled her down to sit between his legs, his arms around her to warm her, the smell of her hair intoxicating. Their conversation continued and this overwhelming desire to start a new life, become sober, become a better man grew in him. If she believed in him he could do it. But there was something else. Something about her.

Sharon liked Andy's tenderness, the way he held her so gently without any expectations. She felt safe in a way she hadn't in a long time. This was crazy. This was not the man she had sworn faithfulness to, this was a man with eerily similar problems, but inexplicably, this was the man who made her feel safe. She leaned back against his chest and pulled his arms more tightly around her. Not to ward off the cold, but to stay close to him cocooned in his jacket and embrace.

Holding each other turned into tentative caresses, his hands in her hair and up and down her naked legs, never venturing further than her knees. She turned sideways to rest her head against his shoulder, rubbing small circles over his chest and abdomen. She was the first to unbutton his shirt and slip in a hand, feel his skin and the wiry hair on his chest, surprised by the intensity of his reaction to her gentle touch. They whispered each other's names, continuing their gentle exploration. The night wasn't about sex so much as it was about feeling each other, and being together.

Sharon knew she would never forget the look in Andy's eyes and the feeling of his fingers and lips on her skin. It had started so gently, one touch leading to another until they were lying on the beach passionately embracing each other. Yet even then, their passion never got away with them, it never overtook them to such an extent that they wouldn't have been able to stop. She could have said stop at any point, and Andy would have stopped. They paused to look at each other, waiting for their rapid heartbeats to return to normal before continuing with the gentle touches. They were even conscientious enough to use a condom, the first time anyway and, Sharon was fairly sure, the second time as well. But they had touched each other in between and it hadn't exactly been safe sex. Not safe, but good. Wonderful. Fulfilling. Satisfying in a way that was new to both of them.

Andy would forever remember the way she had shivered when he first dared to run his hands up her legs and underneath her dress, the sounds she made and the look in her eyes. It seemed like the most natural thing on earth to hold her and touch her and she hummed and … well … moaned. Kisses. More kisses. There was never any hurry. They touched each other, and laughed and talked. Andy committed every detail to memory, how she covered him with her wonderfully soft, abundant hair, and how it had tickled him, her milky white body in the moonlight, the freckles and the faint marks of her first pregnancy. He kissed every single freckle and every mark and heard her giggle, her hands in his hair.

He'd been quite a sportsman in his youth and had a few years of service on the force, and the scars to show for both. She kissed the most recent one, where a bullet had grazed him, giggling and promising she'd make him all better like she did for her little daughter. For Emily. Andy liked the way she said the name and how she spoke about the girl with such love.

It was new, and exciting, but it felt familiar and right at the same time. They kept looking at each other in wordless communication, checking in, giving assurance, receiving acceptance, and underneath it all, something started to blossom. They both felt it, but they never voiced their thoughts.

In the early morning hours they fell asleep in a tight embrace, curled together under the blankets, their clothes next to them in the sand, Andy's face buried deeply into Sharon's hair.

"Move my hair, you'll suffocate," she whispered tiredly, barely managing to form the words.

"Nuh, never, this is my happy place."

Sharon chuckled and yawned and he kissed her neck whispering, "Goodnight sweetheart." He drifted off to the sound of her humming happily.

When he woke up to the first rays of the sun, the beautiful woman in his arms was still fast asleep, her breathing deep and regular, the scent of her filling his mind. For the first time in what felt like years, he was completely clear: no hangover, no headache, and withdrawal hadn't yet set in. All he felt was this profound joy. He loved her! Of that he was sure. He loved Sharon, and there would never be another one like her.

"I love you," he silently mouthed the words, trying out their feel on his tongue, the thought alone warming him through and through.

"Sharon, I love you," he whispered, emboldened now, "I love you and one day, I'll tell you just how early I knew that you were the one and only."


	8. Happy Birthday

**Chapter 7: Happy Birthday  
**

 **February 15th, 2010**

When Ricky had told her that he would be home for his birthday, which fell on a weekend this year, Sharon had been overjoyed. She hadn't expected to see her youngest for another couple of months, not before she could make it up to Palo Alto and with her schedule that had seemed increasingly unlikely. One of her younger officers had been attacked and was still recovering in hospital. She knew he'd be back soon and she didn't feel like replacing him because breaking in someone else, at FID no less, was usually more of a headache than anything else. In the meantime that meant overtime for the rest of the team, their Captain included.

Sharon made sure to meet Ricky at the airport and as she watched the tall gangly boy come out of the exit, she was reminded once again of how just much he resembled his father. From the distance the similarities in their posture seemed even more pronounced, particularly now that she was finally allowing herself to see them.

With Ricky turning eighteen the next day getting to know Andy would now be entirely his choice. In fact, other than the occasional run in in the corridors at work, she hadn't heard from Andy. At their chance encounters he had always been polite and friendly and once they had even talked briefly. Andy had asked her how she was adjusting to the empty nest at home and it had struck her as an unusually perceptive comment. Truth be told, she was lonely. It wasn't like Ricky had spent all his time at home or with her, but to come home and see his shoes in the corridor, to have breakfast together or find a note from with a shopping list, she missed his presence in her life. After Emily had left for ABT, it had been just the two of them and they had become very close and were still keeping in touch with weekly skype calls. Did Andy know about Emily? Did he know that for the past six years, her and Ricky had been alone? He was a detective after all – he must have picked up on the close bond between mother and son. She had given Andy a tentative smiled and politely thanked him saying it was getting easier with every month and that Ricky was so happy. He was. Every time he called he talked about his studies and his little projects on the side, his friends and his ideas for starting a business.

It still surprised her that Jack and her had managed to create such uniquely talented children. Emily, the gifted dancer, and Ricky the hacker kid who had thankfully stayed on the legal track. Well, not Jack and her, she corrected herself. Andy and her had a son who was a gifted computer programmer while she would still be perfectly happy using a landline and her radio and Andy had once famously thrown a computer out of an office window because it refused to do what he wanted. She remembered that incident and the paperwork only too well. Some smartass lawyer had sued the LAPD for use of force because the computer could have hit a civilian by on the street. Boy, had she been grateful it had just smashed to a thousand bits on the sidewalk scattering a few doves without doing any further damage. At least Ricky had never thrown a computer out of the window. No matter how badly he lost his temper, he had never attacked his equipment. He knew too well his mother wouldn't have paid for a replacement.

She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she was completely surprised when Ricky appeared next to her and pulled her into a tight hug. "Mum! You didn't have to pick me up!"

Sharon brought up her hand to cup his face, "But I wanted to, my birthday boy! Welcome home, Ricky."

This time eighteen years ago she had already been in labour, but still at home with Emily. She remembered the pain and the anxiety like it was yesterday, even though people always said you forgot about the pains of childbirth once you held your baby. When she looked at her son now, so tall, with a scruffy beard he'd let grow since Christmas, he was a far cry from the baby she had held then. The baby she had held in her arms, whispering words of love, while her body had cried out for Andy's arms around her and her heart at the injustice of having to raise her little boy by herself.

"Earth to mum, earth to mum!"

"Oh Ricky, I'm sorry, I was remembering what I was doing this time eighteen years ago."

"Playing princess with Emily," he rolled his eyes and looked just like his father.

"Let's go home, I might have made your favourite macaroons last night."

"Yummy! Did you make the chocolate ones?"

"Of course I did!" Ricky hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head – and it felt like yesterday that she had been the one doing that with her children. Now Ricky towered over her and Emily was her 'little' girl.

When she woke up the morning, the sun was shining in through her bedroom window and her hand instinctively went to her abdomen. She had dreamed of Ricky's birth again and was still a little disoriented. She remembered the pain like it was yesterday, and she remembered lying in hospital looking at the little boy with the long limbs and dark hair. Even then he had looked so much like Andy and a part of her had hoped against hope that maybe Andy would turn up now.

After Andy had returned to Los Angeles (at least she had suspected that he had been out of town for quite a while), he had been distant. She had been visibly pregnant by then, but he had never once asked about that - he hadn't even spoken to her. Towards the end of her pregnancy when she had become too big too sleep comfortably, she had walked around the house at night asking herself how she could have misjudged Andy so completely. That was why her mother had told her never to go to bed with a boy on their first date – and their meeting hadn't even been a date, yet it had felt like so much more. To this day, she still asked herself how she could have been so wrong.

They had kissed goodbye on the beach and then Andy had disappeared. He was gone and she found out she was expecting, and her belly grew, and Andy came back and ignored her, and her belly grew some more until one morning, a couple of weeks earlier than expected, she had woken up in pain. She had spent that day with Emily, using her daughter as a distraction from her growing discomfort. She hadn't been ready: not for a second child and certainly not to have this baby now hoping Andy would somehow calculate her due date and miraculously turn up just in time. Oh, how naïve she had been. Of course that hadn't made any difference and by the early afternoon, she'd had to admit defeat and her neighbour had driven her to the hospital. Ricky hadn't been born until late afternoon of the next day and as she had lain there in pain, she had imagined Andy by her side, holding her hand and encouraging her to keep going, kissing her and whispering that he was back and that he loved her. When she'd had Emily, she had cursed Jack even though he had been at her side throughout, trying his level best to calm his increasingly irate wife. But with Ricky she had been longing for Andy and she hadn't even felt like shouting and screaming, she had just wanted him to be there.

With a sigh Sharon got up and pushed the memories as far away as possible. Ricky liked to sleep in so she had plenty of time to prepare his favourite breakfast and set the table for them with her good china, placing her presents and those her parents and Emily had sent next to Ricky's placemat. She scanned her handiwork and nodded contently before adding the flowers she had bought the day before. She loved birthdays, and thanksgivings and Christmas and any sort of family celebration.

Wanting to make sure any late greetings cards – sometimes Jack remembered birthday at the last moment - would also be on the table, she went downstairs to fetch the mail. There was only one letter and it was addressed to her. The handwriting seemed familiar and when she idly turned it around she found Andy's name and address on the back. Why would he be writing to her? Once back inside her condo, she slid her finger underneath the slap. The envelope contained another, smaller envelope addressed to Ricky which she set aside, and a letter for her. Intrigued, she sat down on the balcony and took a sip of her coffee. She could tell Andy had taken great care in writing.

 _Dear Sharon,_

 _my first meeting with Ricky went anything but well and I know I have no right to see him and get to know him. But I am his father and if there is any way we can have a relationship, I do want to try. Sharon, I want you to know that I'm not asking you to appeal on my behalf. You made it very clear, and rightly so, that you wouldn't do that._

 _I don't even know Ricky's exact date of birth, but I think he should be turning 18 around two weeks from now. I've written him a letter and I would like him to have it. I don't have his address at college, and somehow I don't think you would look kindly on my using my badge to get it. Could you pass my letter on to him? I haven't sealed it, so you're welcome to read it beforehand. I don't want to go behind your back and make you feel uncomfortable._

 _I don't know what you think of me – it's probably nothing good. Sharon, I am so very sorry for the way I treated you. I so often wished I had found the courage to talk to you back when you were pregnant or at any point after. As Ricky so rightly pointed out, I was a coward. I know I don't deserve that chance after the way I treated you, but should you ever want to talk, know that I'm here. I know it won't change anything, but I would like to have a chance to explain to you why I did what I did. Not as an excuse, but just so you know. I'm sorry, Sharon, I can only imagine how hurtful my behaviour was for you. I wish I could go back and change – but I can't."_

 _Forgive me._

 _Andy_

Sharon put down the letter and wiped away a tear that had escaped her eye. It was a question she had started asking herself recently. Did she want to talk to Andy about that night at the beach – and the aftermath? Her answer had been a clear no. She hadn't seen the point. What was done was done. She had raised Ricky by herself and she intended to continue just that. She had spent the entire first and maybe also second year of Ricky's young life burying any feelings she had for Andy and the only thing that had changed since then was that he now knew Ricky was his son. He hadn't wanted to talk to her about the past before he knew about Ricky. He had known she was pregnant, and he had decided to ignore that pregnancy – and her. Why should she talk to him and rehash the painful past – just so he would feel better? It was too late.

Ironically, the letter had arrived right on Ricky's birthday. Andy didn't know that Ricky had been born ahead of schedule. In fact, he didn't know any of the circumstances surrounding his birth and if she had any say in the matter, he would never know. God, she would have needed him then, like she would have needed him while she was pregnant. She would have needed him when Ricky was small – but now? It had taken her long enough to recover from Andy Flynn the first time with a son who reminded her of him every day. She wouldn't subject herself to that a second time.

"Mom?"

Sharon whipped around and engulfed Ricky in a tight hug pressing a kiss to his cheek, "Happy birthday, honey!"

"Thank you. Why are you crying, mum?"

"Your old mother is being a little emotional today," she said wiping away the last of her tears. "My baby boy is turning eighteen and I cannot fathom where all the years have gone." She could see the display of emotions was making her son a little uncomfortable, and rightly so. She had always been one to shield her emotions from her kids to protect them. With the fathers she had picked for them, that had been only too necessary.

"The pancake batter's ready and there's strawberries and homemade caramel du beurre salé." Ricky's eyes were starting to sparkle – he loved his mother's homemade salted caramel after a recipe Emily's French ballet instructor had once given her.

"See, this is why I come home for my birthday! The best food ever – and the very best mum!" This time, he pulled her into a hug.

Food always came first for Ricky, in that way he was still very much a teenager. He stacked his pancakes with a liberal helping of the caramel and wolfed them down. Then he started a second stack, and a third until there were no pancakes left and he was spooning the rest of the caramel directly into his mouth humming in appreciation. God, did she love cooking for that boy! She had no idea where he put it all – no matter how much she gave him, he always looked like he could have had more. Finally, he leaned back with a contented groan and started opening his presents. When he got to the very last one, he jumped up and screamed in joy. "Oh Mum, tickets! This is the very best present you could have ever given me. This is so very cool. How did you get them? Did you have to like threaten someone with your weapon? Those sold out months ago!"

Oh good! She had been almost sure that this was the name of the band he had mentioned so often during the past year – and she had managed to get a few of the remaining tickets for their show in LA two months from now. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, no guns involved in this one. Gavin's got a few friends in showbiz, and they pulled a few strings."

"Mum, you are the best!" Ricky leaned over the table to give her another hug. "And you're not crying anymore."

"Gosh, no!"

"What was that letter you were reading when I came in earlier? Did that make you cry?" Uh, sometimes she wished her son wasn't as perceptive. But then she had never really cried on his birthday before. Damn Andy! She had to get her … feelings or whatever they were sorted out before it would all spin out of control. She looked at Ricky, trying to gauge his mood. No, she decided, he was well-fed and happy, she had nothing left to bribe him with and he would just keep digging. Plus, she had said that she wasn't going to stand in the way of a relationship with Andy.

"It came in the mail this morning – a letter from your father."

"Which one?"

"Your biological father, Andy Flynn."

"He's the one making you cry? Mum, you never really told me what happened."

"Actually, he sent two letters, one for me and the other one is for you. Let me go get it."

"Okay," he nodded, deciding not to pry. He knew his mother and he knew a brush off. Maybe whatever his biological father had written in his letter would explain why his mum had been so upset. He had never pegged his mother for the kind to have a one night stand, or some sort of affair and when she had told him about it she had been very vague … and he had been too embarrassed to ask for the details. Emily and he had spent quite some time making up different theories, but it just seemed so out of character for their mum.

"Here it is, Ricky. Read it in your own time and if you want to talk, you know I'm right here."


	9. Help Wanted

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your many comments during the past few weeks. Fear not, this story has not been abandoned and that's not something I would ever do anyway. The original idea had been to finish this before the beginning of season four. However, between episode tags inspired by the new season and my joint writing project 'Shannon likes the Sun' with Miss Shannon (which I can only warmly recommend – we do seem to bring out the best in each other) I simply lacked the time for this story. Seems like I got myself a project for the next hiatus!

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Help Wanted**

 **July 2010**

Damn this stupid new building! He never knew where to find anything. Shouldn't FID be easy to find? After all, everyone claimed that it was such an important and integral part of the LAPD. He couldn't care less about FID for the moment, what he needed was to see Sharon. He had been needing to see her ever since Agent Howard had taken out the pervert and then wrapped his wife in his arms.

The boiling intensity of his own emotions had surprised Andy. When he had seen Sharon go into Agent Myers' house along with the rest of his team he had grabbed her arm through her blue LAPD jacket whispering a fierce order for her to stay back and let them search the place. There hadn't been enough time to hear her response as he had taken the lead focussing on the job at hand. Later, after they had found the boy Ruben, their eyes had met for the briefest of moments. It had been the first time he'd ever seen her in action rather than coming in after the fact, and it had scared him. It had scared him half to death.

As they were rushing out to their cars he had pulled her aside once more grabbing her arm maybe a bit too forcefully. "Sharon, I know you're not armed and this guy is dangerous! Please stay back," he had implored her but she had looked at him impassively before removing her arm from his grasp with a step back and a flat-sounding, "Lieutenant Flynn, you are out of line. Please remember that you are talking to a superior officer." But she _had_ stayed in the back near the car when they had taken down Agent Myers. Everybody else had worried about the Chief, but he had had to force himself not to look at Sharon and then … God, when Agent Howard had taken the Chief into his arms he had almost run over to Sharon to do the same thing. How much had he wished he could hold her and feel her, alive and well, warm in his arms. A picture of the young Sharon, the one he'd been able to hold only too briefly, flashed before his eyes as he turned yet another corner into yet another nondescript corridor.

Except that this wasn't just another corridor. He'd finally found it: the lair of the devil, evil incarnate … home to the woman who still held his heart. Force Investigation Division. The squadroom was deserted this late at night but he knew she'd still be here. He had seen her come out of the Chief's office not so long ago. Provenza had told him she was conducting some sort of investigation into the Pope, who wanted to be the next Chief of Police. Why on earth Sharon would need to tag along on one of their cases to do that he had no idea, but then he'd never cared much about office politics anyway.

There was still light in her office and the blinds were closed. Andy took a moment to steady himself waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal and think over what he wanted to say. No, strike that, what he should say, because what he wanted to say was very clear. How could she endanger herself like that? Didn't she know that her children needed her, that their son needed his mother? Unfortunately, Sharon chose that exact moment to leave her office and walked right into him. The sound that escaped her throat sounded equal parts surprised and scared.

"Sharon, I'm sorry, I was just about to knock," he tried to salvage the situation fighting the urge to take her into his arms by pushing his hands into his pockets

"Lieutenant Flynn, may I ask why you are standing in front of my office at," she lifted her arm to take a look at her watch, "almost ten o'clock?"

He wanted to hold her and tell her how relieved he was that she was safe and that she needed to take better care of herself, but he couldn't tell her any of that. "Eh, Sharon," he stammered instead awkwardly clasping his hands behind his back.

She started tapping her foot, her own hands now on her hips, clearly waiting for him to come up with an explanation. After what felt like several minutes but probably hadn't been more than a few seconds, she huffed impatiently. "Andy, what is it?"

"I needed to see you."

There was a smirk on her face now. "Well, you've done that. Anything else or can I go home?"

How could she be so flippant after what had happened mere hours ago? "Goddammit, do you have any idea of the danger you put yourself in today? You could have been killed!" That was not what he had been wanting to say, or at least not like that but his heart was beating quickly again and his brain had stopped thinking. "Sharon, you can't do that!"

"Lieutenant Flynn…"

"Dammit! I'm not Lieutenant Flynn, I'm Andy talking to Ricky's mother!" he spit out, frustrated with himself that he'd only managed to annoy her so far.

"That's enough!" her voice sounded harsh as she reminded him of where they were. Her office. At work.

"Sharon, please…" He needed her to stay. He could tell she was about to walk away and leave him standing there, even more frustrated than before. All he wanted was to talk and …

Finally she huffed, annoyed this time rather than impatient, and turned back to her office motioning for him to follow her. There was always a danger of someone wandering the corridors at night, although the chances were generally low for that in FID. Andy obviously had something to get off his mind and Sharon decided it would be best to have that conversation in her office. She made sure all blinds were closed and nodded towards the green chair. "Sit down and talk to me. And be quick, I want to get home."

She noticed the slight trembling in his hands as he settled down, the rapid breathing. Was he having a panic attack? But why would he? All this talk about her safety and being Ricky's mother. So much for a quiet evening at home with a glass of wine and a soak in her bathtub.

"Do you want to have a glass of water – or something to eat?" she offered because he had become a ghostly pale now.

"No – that's okay. Sharon, I'm sorry for barging in here unannounced."

"Well, you're here now so I suggest you tell me what you've come to say."

"He needs you. Ricky needs you and I promised him to have an eye on you and to keep you safe. God, Sharon, you weren't even armed, were you? You can't barge into situations like that with no regard for your own safety!"

"You promised Ricky to keep me safe?" He was worried about her safety? What a strange conception! She'd realised that he hadn't been happy with her coming with the squad and she hadn't been sure if his demands to stay back had been because he didn't want her there or because he was afraid she'd interfere with the squad. So he'd been worried about her? For now, she wanted to focus on the new information, his promise to Ricky.

"I did – the last time I saw him just a few days ago. You do know we've been seeing each other, right?" That she knew. After the birthday letter which she'd never read and which her son hadn't talked about in detail, he had contacted Andy. They had started talking and she knew Andy had been up to visit Ricky a few times since - so she nodded.

"You've raised a wonderful young man, Sharon." She'd heard that before, and she knew Ricky was a good boy, well, a good young man. She was generally very pleased with the way her children had turned out - despite their fathers. She had raised them to be kind, and responsible, and she had succeeded. It made her proud to see Ricky brave enough to connect with Andy and learn about his roots – even if it hurt her and even if a part of her was jealous when Ricky talked about their weekends together. But he had a right to get to know his father, to know where he came from.

"Thank you," she said to keep the conversation going, curious now to hear where he was going.

"Ricky's been asking me about my job quite a bit, and about your job, too. Don't worry, I only said nice things about FID."

She could only too well imagine what these nice things would be. "I hope you didn't tell him the head of FID had a good pair of legs."

"Uh, no." Andy's ears turned red. He'd been saying that, except that he'd called her the head bitch and called her legs something a little more … mature … than good. He had no idea that it had gotten back to her, but then those things usually got around. "Of course not, Sharon! I'm not going to talk like that about his mother!"

"At least not to him." A blow, delivered with precision.

"Touché. I'm sorry, Sharon."

"Frankly, I don't care about your apologies. What is want to know is why you're here now."

"Because I needed to see you. I needed to see for myself that you were okay. Dammit, you shouldn't have been there today. You shouldn't have come into the house with us. You aren't trained for those situations! What am I going to tell Ricky if you get hurt or worse? Have you ever thought what that would do to him? He needs you, Sharon."

She couldn't help but laugh bitterly. He had no idea. She'd been doing this job since she'd had Emily. She had chosen Internal Affairs because she would be safer, because her children wouldn't have had anyone if something had happened to her. It seemed … inappropiate to now have one of their fathers take her to task for just that and she was beginning to bristle with irritation. A part of her could understand that Andy was worried, she might even be willing to believe that this worry came from a good place. She would give him that much. But he was insinuating that she was irresponsible. _Irresponsible_. She who had raised her children by herself without either of their fathers. How dare he? How dare he!

"Get out," she whispered her voice low and dangerous, "get out and get out of my sight."

"But Sharon, don't you realise how dangerous the situation was today? You could have been hurt, hell, you could have been killed and where would that leave Ricky?" His hands were properly shaking now and his face was red, a sure sign that his blood pressure had spiked again, a vein at his neck standing out and throbbing. "Goddammit!" he shouted, "You need to be careful!"

Sharon took a deep breath and let it out slowly with as much control as she could muster. Then she another deep breath while collecting her thoughts. She knew her face was impassive and neutral, and she willed it to stay just like that.

"Andy. You left me to raise Ricky by myself. You do not get to judge me for the way I chose to support my family."

"But Sharon, I am not judging you."

"Quiet!" her voice was a low deadly whisper, "You will _not_ interrupt me. Lieutenant Flynn, you will get up and leave my office. You will _not_ shout and you will _not_ accuse me of unprofessional behaviour. I am giving you only this one warning – and if you do not comply, I shall report you for verbal abuse of a superior officer. Do I make myself clear?"

He opened his mouth but the look in her eyes stopped him before she had even lifted her hand. He felt like a dog with its tail tugged between its legs as he got up and silently made his way out of her office. He understood that he had hurt her, hell, he'd left her to raise their son by herself. But he'd never meant to question her parenting skills. Over the past months he had gotten to know the son she had raised and like he had said earlier, he thought she had done an exceptional job – and that didn't even begin to express it. But she was so angry. He realised that by trying to protect her he had hurt her even more. Every step towards the door seemed to take forever and an iron fist closed around his heart with every additional inch he put between them. How could he ever make up for all the hurt, how could he ever heal all the injuries he had inflicted on her?

Once in the doorway he turned around and looked into her face, still and bare of any expression except for the flicker of hurt in her green eyes. He couldn't just leave her like that, so he lifted a hand in salute.

"Captain Raydor."

Her face remained impassive as she nodded.

"Lieutenant Flynn."

And with that he walked through the door and out into the dark and empty corridor.


	10. Filial Intervention

**Chapter 9: Filial Intervention**

 **August 2010**

"Mom, we need to talk. Are you free this coming weekend?"

Ricky's suggestion was unexpected and she couldn't help but worry, "I'm not on duty, honey. But there's no need to wait until the weekend, we can talk right now. Is everything okay? Just tell me what it is. Are you alright?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm perfectly okay. I'd just really like to see you – it's been a long time!"

That was true and more importantly, Andy had been up to Ricky at least once a month and she couldn't help feeling a little jealous. A part of her wished she could have kept Ricky to herself, but she was careful not to let it show in her voice. "Why don't I fly up and visit you? Let me check for flights right now."

"Are you sure you want to make the trip, Mom?" Did he ask Andy the same question when _he_ wanted to visit him? "I could also come home." Home. Home was with her, not with Andy.

"I'm very sure. You said you wanted to talk to me – you don't need to come to LA for that. In fact, a change of scenery would do me some good, too." She still found herself seething at the memory of her last conversation with Andy. The sheer audacity to walk into her office and to question her professional conduct and experience! She wasn't trained for that? How did he think she'd become an officer in the first place? She grudgingly agreed that she should have taken a weapon with her. After an incident a few years ago she almost always carried a small concealed gun, but the hadn't that day. A missing nanny followed up on as a personal favour to the Mayor had hardly seemed dangerous. Well, she had clearly misjudged the situation. But that didn't mean that she had intentionally risked her life!

"Mom? Are you still there?"

"Yes, yes I am. Ricky, I am going to book a flight for this weekend."

"You can stay with me. I mean, you can have my room if you like. Marvin's out so I'll take his."

The suggestion warmed her heart, but it also told her that he really wanted to talk to her. Where did Andy stay when he visited? Did Ricky offer him his bed or did he sleep on the air mattress she had bought for Emily? Emily of course had made her brother sleep on the mattress and had requisitioned his bed. And Andy? Oh, this stupid jealousy. She had no reason at all to doubt Ricky's affection for her and wasn't he just calling to tell her he needed her?

"I'd love to Ricky. Gosh, what an unexpected surprise!"

"That's kinda the point of a surprise, Mom!"

She laughed, openly and from her heart, all jealous thought about Andy forgotten. That was her boy.

Friday evening she spotted him waiting for her, tall and gangly, his eyes scanning the crowd. She stepped aside and took a moment to watch her son. His hair was the usual mess, but she had gotten used to that by now. She had hoped that perhaps Andy who was always so very well put together (and yes, she did notice that even at his age he was still a good looking attractive man) might have done something about that. But then he was trying to build up a relationship with his son – and he wouldn't do that by asking him to change. No, those tasks remained for her, the mother. And it wasn't like his haircut mattered much in the scheme of things. He also looked like he had lost weight, but that could be easily fixed by taking him out to lunch and dinner. Her boy liked to eat. With a happy smile she stepped out her corner and walked towards her son, enjoying the moment when he saw her and his face lit up in a smile. She loved both of her children, and she knew they loved her, but seeing it reflected so clearly was something she enjoyed and would probably never get enough of.

"Mom, you're here!" The moment she was through the security barrier, he threw his arms around her, towering over her as he lifted her off the ground.

"Ricky," she squealed in feeble protest but enjoyed the moment nonetheless.

A few hours later she had dropped her luggage at his flat and freshened up a bit.

"Did you bring some comfy shoes, Mum? There's this lovely restaurant, but it's a bit of a hike."

"Define _a bit_ for me."

"Maybe half an hour?"

Sharon shot a sad look at her Manolos waiting for her son to start rolling his eyes, and when he did, she couldn't help but laugh, "Got you! You told me to plan for a hike, so I came prepared."

Ricky had taken care in planning their first evening out. The drove to the bottom of a hill and she saw a funicular going up to the restaurant they planned to go to.

"That would have been in case you hadn't felt like hiking, and that's how we'll get back down later when it's dark," Ricky explained and linked his arms through hers. The hike was pleasant through dense green forests with the occasional view. Sharon pushed aside the thought whether Ricky had also taken Andy here, but her son seemed to read her mind.

"Andy is a bit of a lazy bum. He made me take the funicular both ways. Says he only runs to chase a suspect or to make a home run."

Sharon laughed and was surprised at how genuine the sentiment felt, "That sounds like Lieutenant Flynn. You know, he has a partner who makes a point out of never running."

"Lieutenant Provenza, right?"

She hummed in affirmation wondering what else Ricky knew about his father … things she probably didn't know.

"Are you still playing baseball?" she inquired trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of Andy.

"Yeah, sometimes, nothing serious, but Andy and I join this group at the park when he's here."

His words echoed through her head: Andy and I join this group at the park when he's here. Because Andy has been visiting Ricky more often than her and apparently, they had already found a routine and … she chided herself for being jealous. Andy had missed Ricky's first eighteen years and Ricky had missed a father growing up. Now he was getting exactly what she had always wanted for him. Maybe rather than try and steer the conversation _away_ from Andy she should ask about him. At least that way she would control the conversation. Oh God, where was this going to end? This was her son and not somebody she was interviewing at work! She forced herself to relax.

"How is it going between the two of you, Ricky?"

"It's actually going well. Mom, I'm the first person to be surprised by that. I really only met him again because … well, because you said I should look at all angles and … I think we're quite alike. I mean, I know he has a temper, but there's other things, too. Did you know he kinda smiles like me when he's nervous?"

The memory came suddenly and unexpectedly and almost took her breath away. Andy's face, the smirk before he had kissed her for the very first time. That's why Ricky's smirk had always looked so familiar! She had tried to look for it among her family members. Gosh, that was Andy. She smiled at Ricky, "That's very true."

They walked at a moderate pace slowly making their way up the mountain, crossing underneath the funicular every now and then and just as Sharon was starting to get tired they reached a clearing with a large rustic-looking wooden cabin. Ricky had gotten them a table in a quiet corner with a breath-taking view. They ordered their meals and sat together companionably, chatting about his studies and friends and Emily's most recent visit.

"Are you and Andy seeing each other a lot now?" The question sounded casual and no different from what he'd asked her before.

"We don't. Our paths cross at work sometimes, but that's all."

"So, you haven't had, like, a falling-out recently?" Maybe not so casual after all.

"No, as I said, we hardly ever meet. Why would you ask that?"

"It seems like something has happened between the two of you. Andy was acting all strange when he was here two weeks ago."

"In what way was he acting strangely?" She just hoped he hadn't mentioned the case of the missing nannies and her involvement to Ricky.

"Just odd. Mom, you told me how you met Andy, but I've always wondered whether that's the full story."

"I've told you all there is to it." She had fought hard with herself before she had talked to him and had spent nights agonising about the level of detail he would need to know. In the end, she had decided to be as honest as possible, so her answer now came easily.

"You know, Andy never says anything about that. I asked him and he confirmed what you told me. He says it was all his fault and he's the one to blame."

Sharon nodded. Andy was the one who had disappeared on her. Ricky knew that. What else was there to say?

"It might have been a one-night stand, but I think you hadn't planned on it being one. Mom, you're not a one night stand kind of girl."

She could the blush creeping up her chest. Of course she wasn't and she hadn't been then either!

"Are you sure he doesn't still love you? Because I think he does."

Sharon almost choked on her coffee, coughing and sputtering. Where on earth had that come from? Had Andy said anything to Ricky? It took her a moment to regain her breath. "Andy doesn't love me."

"I don't think that's true, Mom. You should see him when he talks about you. He keeps saying what a wonderful woman you are and that he admires you for your strength and determination. Says I should count myself lucky to have you as my mom, that I couldn't have wished for a better mom. He called you incredible."

Strength and determination? Incredible? Andy had really said that about her and in front of Ricky? She would have to talk to him about that.

"The guy is head over heels in love with you, Mom. It's so obvious. Even Marvin noticed. He thinks that my parents are really cute because my dad's still so madly in love with my mom!"

"Ricky, I know you're connecting with Andy and I'm grateful for that. I'm happy he's turning out to be a better father than Jack. But that's between Andy and you. There is nothing going on between him and me."

"Are you sure? Because I think something's happened between the two of you. The last time he was here he hardly talked about you and when I mentioned your name he looked really sad."

"Maybe you should ask him."

"Mom, the guy obviously really likes you and … he's not so bad. He's very different from Jack. Did you know he's been sober for almost 14 years? He seems like a decent guy – and he's funny."

"I know having parents that love each other is an appealing idea - and I wish you and Emily would have been able to experience that growing up. But what you're doing now is projecting your own wishes onto other people and that is ..."

"Why don't you give him a chance? Mom, there must have been something between you all those years ago! You wouldn't have slept with him on your first date if you hadn't felt something for him!"

"Ricky I hadn't finished yet," she chastised him gently trying not to let it show just how close to the truth he was getting. "You're projecting something you'd like to see happen onto Andy and me. Let me assure you: Andy and I can barely have a civil conversation. There is absolutely no love lost between us!" Oh dear, she really hadn't meant to sound so bitter.

"Andy hurt you. He really hurt you. He said it himself and that he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. But … maybe you should listen to him. I think he'd like to explain. Mom, you're always so catholic and yet you cheated on your husband and you had a one night stand with the guy. Andy wasn't just anyone, was he? I think you loved him."


	11. Layover

**Chapter 11: Layover**

 **August 2010**

Andy knew he hadn't said the right things. He had been so worried about her that the rational part of his brain had just shut off. He had seen her, in the middle of it all, and in that moment he hadn't seen her as a police officer, he had seen Sharon, _his Sharon_ , the mother of his son and the woman he loved. Of that he was sure by now. He still loved her, had always loved her on some level and the last year had only serve to reawaken those feelings. She however seemed to dislike him even more than before, if that was even possible. There had been a time when he had hoped they might reconnect - not as lovers, but maybe as friends or at least as parents of their son.

It wasn't even that he could blame her for any of it. Everything he'd wanted to say had just come out so wrong and now she was thinking that he disapproved of her work. Dammit! He had been an idiot – once again. Nothing new, really. A few days after their conversation he had called her but she had let it go to voicemail. Probably intentionally. It's what he would have done in her place. He had been too worked up to leave a message, too unsure of what to say. He couldn't very well tell her he loved her in a voicemail. Then he had called her again and left a message apologising profusely and asking her to forgive him. She had never called back. He wouldn't have either.

He had visited Ricky and the boy had asked him what was wrong. Nothing was wrong, difficult cases at work. Had he worked again with his mother? Only briefly, his mother was doing a background check into a candidate for the next chief of police and had talked to his boss, Chief Johnson. He hadn't mentioned that she'd accompanied them into the field, because Ricky would have asked him if he'd looked out for her like he'd promised him to do. What a mess.

"You're sure that's all there is to it?" the boy had asked him with that same look his mother had when she questioned him from behind her desk. Those eyes, though brown like his own, always went straight to his heart. Of course he wasn't sure about the full extent of the background check, but yes, that's what he thought his mom had been doing, he explained. He hadn't been able to bring himself to even say her name scared that his voice might break and give him away.

With Sharon even more unattainable now than ever before, he easily reverted into his usual ways picking up girls as different from her as possible to soothe the pain he knew couldn't be soothed. Agreed, the deal with the two stewardesses had seemed a little too good, but what did he have to loose? He might have gotten a night of fun out of it and who knows, he might have even been able to fall asleep without thinking about Sharon. She had always been out of his reach, the most he could have hoped for were civil interactions and conversations about their son - and even that had become increasingly unlikely now.

/

Whatever he had tried to make Ricky believe during his last visit obviously hadn't worked, because upon arriving he quickly found himself at the receiving end of yet another Raydor investigation.

"Andy, I think you and Mom had a fight of sorts." Never one to beat around the bush, his son settled himself in for what seemed like a longer conversation. "Even before you behaved like the biggest idiot there is. I mean, do you think she's going to be pleased to hear her son's father has been picking up drug-trafficking stewardesses with his idiot best friend?"

Andy almost chocked. When had his son started to talk to him like that? And more importantly, how on earth did he know about the stewardesses? He was _very sure_ that Sharon didn't know. Both Pope and the Chief had been very careful that nothing of the incident had leaked into other departments. They both stood too much to loose - even if only Pope really cared about that. Yes, Provenza and him had made a questionable choice in their personal life, but it was nothing that would have warranted an IA investigation. "How do you know about that?" he finally managed to bring out, his attempt as keeping his calm failing miserably.

Ricky looked at the man who was his father. The visible unease was almost comical. He knew what he was doing to the man. After all his mother had used the same tactics on him and his sister growing up. His father's face, although bright red now, was a bit like an open book to him. An open book in a foreign language. He could see that he had hit the right spot and that there was a story to tell, he just couldn't tell yet what exactly that story was. Whenever Andy mentioned his mother, his eyes lit up. With love, with sadness, with regret. That part was a little different every time.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said watching Andy's reaction carefully.

"Okay, let me rephrase that question, Ricky. Do you know enough or is there anything else you'd like to know about ... that case."

Humour. That was how his dad coped with the pain. Humour and a directness Ricky liked. Straight to the point, no denying, no beating round the bush. "I've got a pretty good grasp of what happened. I guess you're lucky _you_ didn't go home to the place with the dead body in the bathtub."

Andy groaned in pain and hid his face in his hands. "Ricky, _how_ do you know all that?"

"Easy. You forget that even though my mom is a bit of an outcast with her FID job, I'm still an officer's kid and I have connections. Good connections. Some of the kids I grew up with are LAPD officers. Believe me, if I want to know something I'll find out."

"A bit like your mom."

"Except that she – luckily for you - doesn't yet know about this particular stunt. Hell, since you've become my, uh, father, I've started asking around and I learned a lot of things about you. You are the biggest idiot there is. A stewardess?!"

"They're called flight attendants now."

"Yes, that's the way to mom's heart. Picking up a woman half your age who is now in prison awaiting charges for drug trafficking? I'm sure calling her 'flight attendant' rather than stewardess is going to win you a lot of points with the LAPD Women's Coordinator!"

Beyond embarrassed, Andy didn't even know where to hide his head anymore. He had never expected Ricky to find out. He'd been worried about Sharon but this? This he hadn't planned on. Damn. And if Ricky knew, had he told Sharon was well?

"Did you tell her?"

"Oh no, of course not! And neither will you. Andy, what on earth got into your head? Do you really think you'll get her back like that? I thought you loved Mom – but that is no way to win her heart. Surely you know that."

What would he say? Of course he loved her – but he knew there was no way she would ever be his.

"Andy, do you love her? Because I think you do. It's pretty obvious. Even Marvin noticed."

Marvin, the ever curious roommate. He actually quite liked the guy, but he noticed that he had asked an inordinate amount of questions about Sharon and their relationship the last times he had visited. Andy knew he would need to put a stop to this. He couldn't talk to Ricky about his feelings for Sharon. She'd be furious if she ever found out and he was sure there would be no recovering from that kind of anger. He lifted his face to look into his son's eyes and for the first time in their relationship, he was the one to set down boundaries.

"Ricky, that's a very personal question. I can't talk to you about my relationship with your mother – it wouldn't be fair to her. We have both told you what you need to know and I'm happy to answer any questions, but my relationship with your mother is off-limits."

"At least you admit that there's a relationship!"

"We share a child. You."

Ricky felt like he'd heard that before – his mother telling Jack that they _shared children_ , but that they didn't have a family. And they were married. He looked at his father for a little longer, and Andy stared back at him with a new determination. Interesting. Very interesting - and he still had all weekend to get an answer!

The answer came the next morning and not in way Ricky had expected it. He was woken up by Andy thrashing around and whispering his mother's name, pleading with her to let him explain. "I love you, Sharon. I love you so much. Please stay! I love you!" He watched the expression of pain and despair on his father's face, the tears making their way down over his cheeks. It was heartbreaking to watch him keep pleading, trying to convince his mother to stay and let him explain. Finally, Ricky took pity on Andy. He had heard enough anyway.

Andy woke up with a start and found himself looking into his son's face. The dream. Another dream of Sharon, asking for her forgiveness, Sharon with the long flowing hair and her wonderful throaty laughter who looked back at him with nothing but hurt and tears in her beautiful eyes.

"You had a nightmare. You were asking her to stay and listen to you."

There was no need to explain who 'she' was – both the man and the boy knew. The boy raised an eye and the resemblance with his mom was such that Andy had to swallow.

"You love her." I wasn't a question, it wasn't an accusation. It was a statement of facts. "You love Mom."

His sons eyes were boring into him and Andy didn't move a muscle. He couldn't deny that he loved her, but he couldn't tell Ricky either. After what felt like forever, Ricky smiled. "I think that's enough of an answer for me. Now, what are you going to do about that?"

"Ricky, please stop. I can't talk to you about that. I ... I can't do that to her."

"Well, you two are obviously doing something to each other – and let me tell you something, it's not working!" Ricky remembered the tears his in mother's eyes when she had read Andy's letter on his birthday. "Do you know that my mom's never been with anyone but Jack – except for the night with you? And you're _still_ dreaming about her 19 years later. You're telling her you love her in your sleep. You have got to make this right!"

"I don't know how to make it right," Andy whispered hopelessly. She would hate him for this, airing their dirty laundry in front of their son. He had to make it right, he knew that. Just how? How could he after all the ways in which he'd hurt her and kept hurting her?

"Write her a letter, like you did with me. You're good at it and it would give you a chance to write down everything you want to say without getting flustered."

"Who says I get flustered by your mom?"

"Let's not pretend you don't, because everybody does. When she wants you to be flustered, that's what you'll be. Hell, she's my mother and I know she loves me, but there's that one look..."

Andy laughed. He knew that look – or a similar one – only too well. "Your mom's one of a kind."

"Tell her that."


	12. A Tale of Two Letters

**Chapter 11: A Tale of Two Letters**

 **October 2010**

It had taken Andy more time than he had ever thought possible to write his letter to Sharon. He had so much to say, and he wanted to say it all. He wanted to apologise: not just for his disappearance 19 years ago, but also for all the fights in between, the names he had called her and his most recent stupid outburst where he had accused her of not being a good mother. So much to say. It had taken him days to catalogue it all. And then he wanted to tell her how he felt about her. How deeply he had fallen in love with her then. How he still couldn't taste pomegranate without thinking of her, how cranberry & soda had become his drink of choice, connecting her to him because she had suggested it, the tangy taste reminding him of what he had lost. He wanted to explain himself and there was so much to say and he really didn't know where to start.

At the end he had pages upon pages of notes and then he still had to write it all onto clean paper, by hand, because he was old-fashioned like that. He wanted to bare his heart to her after all – he wasn't writing some official letter. He agonized over the choice of every word because he just wanted to tell her both how sorry he was and how much he felt for her. He had fallen in love with her during that one night, and in the coming months his love had intensified as had his shame at his own failure. He had buried both of those feelings deeply after he had come back, and over the years had kept them at bay by hating her with the same ferocity with which he had once loved her. Now, there was none of the hate and all of the love. He would never admit that to Ricky, but his son had been right. He loved her. Nothing short of that.

On the day Andy got up very early and, fortified by a cup of his favourite coffee, drove over to Sharon's condo with his precious cargo lying on the passenger seat. The heavy paper looked good, befitting to the importance of the letter. Pulling to a stop in front of her building, he pressed the letter to his lips for a moment and then got out to place it into her letter box. It slipped in and hit the bottom with a thud. Confident Sharon would read it on her own time, Andy allowed his step to take on a boyish spring as he thought about breakfast at his favourite beachsite café. He might even call Ricky and tell him he had finally done it. He would be happy and maybe they could plan their next weekend together.

/

It felt comfortable and warm, familiar in the way of an old blanket or a pair of well-worn shoes. Arms wrapped around her, a wide solid chest pressed against her back, the hand holding hers. She had woken up like this precious few times over the years and, like she had done before on these rare occasions, she turned around in the man's arms and snuggled into his chest, his only response a tightening of his arms around her. Maybe this time he would stay, maybe this time it would be for real.

Jack had first called her a few weeks ago right after the fiasco with Andy. She had still been reeling from his accusations. How dare he? Even now, she was still equal parts hurting and outraged. Jack calling was something new. He never called ahead. Usually he just turned up on her doorstep at all hours of night or day and made himself at home. This time he had asked if she would mind if he bunked with her for a week since he had a client to represent in Los Angeles. She did mind, of course she did. Jack's visits had yet to lead to something good and she should have told him exactly that but then she felt sorry for him.

She had made him believe that Ricky was his son, and for all she knew, that was what he still thought. Ricky and her had agreed they wouldn't tell anyone in the family except for Emily and, surprisingly, his roommate Marwin. It was Ricky's story to tell though and he could decide who he wanted to let in on the secret. Not his grandparents, apparently, he was still trying to get to know Andy better before making that step. She couldn't blame him, she should have been equally cautious with Jack all those years ago.

So there was Jack, calling her and asking her to stay and she said yes despite her own best interest. Because she felt guilty. Jack was different this time. He not only called ahead, he made sure to arrive when she was home – and he looked different. He had obviously lost weight, he smelled spicy and fresh, was clean shaven and his eyes were clear. He leaned in to press a kiss on her cheek, a safe one far away from her lips, "It's good to see you again Sharon, you look well," he said and squeezed her upper arm. He asked her for her grocery list and did the shopping and got up to make breakfast for her in the morning.

By the middle of the week she had wrapped up her latest case and was pondering on going home early when he called her, asking to take her out for dinner. Oh, why not? She could use the distraction. After all, he was her husband and they had been very happy in those early years of their marriage, before Emily had arrived. It was scary and comforting at the same time to see how quickly they fell back into old habits, a familiarity they shouldn't have shared after so many years being separated. A lot of the old Jack was shining through. He was self-assured, but he was charming and funny, making her laugh – out loud and genuine – until she snorted and he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Oh Sharon, you were always one of the hardest ones to crack!" Dinner led to a walk on the beach during which _she_ was the one to take his hand and then they kissed in the sunset, wind blowing around them, Jack pulling her close to shield her from the cold.

The next night he surprised her with tickets to the ballet. "I called Emily and she said this was one of your favourites." He wouldn't have known, but until now, he wouldn't have cared either. It surprised her in a very pleasant way and so, while she watched and listened to Tchaikovsky her hand wrapped around his and kept hold of it all through the evening. That night they kissed and then Jack pulled away and wished her good night. She was confused until he cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you for letting me stay with you, and for spending tonight with me." She hadn't been able to sleep that night, her mind in overdrive with memories of happier times and she had been the one to get up and sneak into his room and into his bed. Everything had come with surprising ease, he'd welcomed her into his arms and pulled her close, whispered how much he'd missed her into her hair as they made love. "I can tell you're awake," he whispered later when she couldn't fall asleep, "and you're wondering when I'll leave. I'm not leaving, Sharon, not if you don't ask me to."

She had known it was a mistake to trust him, but she was so lonely and a part of her still loved him, loved the idea of him. The young girl in her still remembered the young man she had fallen in love with, her dashing Jack who had made her the envy of everyone around, who had had eyes for no one but her. That Jack was back, making her feel special and loved, paying her compliments and making her presents. Nothing expensive, he seemed to have remembered she didn't care for the big gestures, but small thoughtful gifts that made her smile.

He went to Vegas and was back a couple of weeks later, once again calling in advance, taking her out to a charity banquet he knew she enjoyed and Sharon found herself actually happy. Jack could be incredibly charming if he wanted to, and it seemed like he had set his mind on getting her back for good. She was waiting for the other show to drop, but it didn't. They spent the following weekend at his parent's summer house up the coast, reconnecting and that was when she asked him why. "Why are you doing all this, Jack? Why are you back in my life?"

"Does a husband need a reason to spend time with his wife?"

"He does if he's been absent for years."

"You're still my wife, Shar, but more importantly, I still love you. I've been missing you. I know I've been anything but the husband you deserved."

"But?"

"But I want you back, I want to win back your trust and your heart."

He sounded so sincere, so honest and he hadn't been in her life this much in years.

Then came the day it all blew up on her, blew up in her face in the way it hadn't in years. It started innocently enough, with Jack asking her to pick him up at the airport instead of taking a cab. It was no big deal, she was free and her heart was beating a little more quickly at the thought of seeing him. How odd and unexpected that now that Ricky knew about his real father Jack should decide to come back into her life and actually mean it. He looked exhausted and a little worse for the wear when she saw him. "You're my saviour. Gosh, how do you manage to look more gorgeous with every passing year?" he said when she pulled her into against his chest. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist, carefree for once, "You're as charming as ever."

That night she finally found out why Jack had been wanting to get back into contact with her. They were lying in bed comfortably snuggled up together, his hands in her hair. She had missed this, had missed sharing her bed and Jack … on a certain level they still knew each other well. He knew what she liked and there wasn't any of the awkwardness there had been with others and not that there had been many of those anyway. "Shari, I need your help," he whispered when she was already more than half asleep. She hummed and buried deeper into his arms hoping he would let her sleep, but he kept talking. He was broke, he said his lips moving against her hair, and indebted to a rather shady guy in Vegas, he had spent his last money getting onto the plane to LA and now he wanted her to take him in.

"You can stay, but I won't give you any money," she decided and he kissed her and thanked her profusely. The last thing she remembered were his gentle caresses, the smell of his aftershave and the words, "I love you."

When she woke up the next morning, the bed next to her was empty and the sheets cold. Dread settled in the depth of her stomach as she padded around the apartment with a persistent sense of déjà vu. Any trace of Jack had vanished and there was a letter waiting for her on the couch table. She sat down as the world seemed to cave in around her. All his attention over the past two months, the presents, the time spent together. He had known that the guy was closing in on him and he had thought she would bail him out – and why not, she had done it before. Now on to the letter of apology, a familiar theme in their life over the years. But the words blurred before her eyes.

 _Sharon,_

 _I thought I knew you, but I was shocked to notice that you've reached a new level in your journey to become the ultimate ice queen. You've taken advantage of me and my generosity and when - for once - I ask you for help, you drop me. I don't know what happened to the wonderful woman I once married. When did you become such a cold-hearted bitch, Sharon? Tell our children I love them and that their mother was too selfish to help me out when I needed her._

 _With love (even if you will never understand the true meaning of love),_

 _Your disappointed husband Jack._


	13. Stains

**Chapter 12: Stains**

 **November 2010**

Sharon felt like cursing the day mankind had learned to write. Well, at least the men among them. Two letters from the two fathers of her two children in as many weeks. There were clearly limits to how much a woman could take.

The day of the first letter she went to work as always, buried herself in paperwork and attended a strategy meeting with the Mayor. He was one of her biggest fans and supported her plans for the development of PSB and almost unconditionally. She rather liked playing him against Pope and that day had been another day when she had successfully done so. It gave her a feeling of accomplishment, a petty victory maybe, but a victory no less. She had dinner with Gavin in the evening; her best friend who had called her in the morning on the way to work acting on his infallible radar that something was wrong with her. He was also the one who contacted her banks to make sure they knew none of these old powers of attorney Jack Raydor had once had for her accounts were still valid. It was a procedure they had gone through many a time before and when they met at their favourite French restaurant at the end of the day, he could assure her everything was well taken care of. Over glasses of champagne and a bottle of expensive white wine, one of her favourite from the Loire Valley she rarely indulged in, she was laughing again and looking at life with a more positive outlook. Slightly tipsy she pulled Gavin into a hug and declared, maybe a little to loudly for their surroundings, that the only good men were gay men, her brothers and her son. Laughing, Gavin convinced her to add Sergeant Elliot and her own Father to the list, and made sure she got a taxi home. Sharon passed out on her couch that night and if Gavin hadn't come with coffee and a selection of greasy breakfast foods she would surely have been late for work the next day. In the coming days, her life slowly returned to normal. She was, after all, familiar with pulling herself out of the hole the departure of Jackson Raydor left her in.

The day of the second letter she came home a little early straight out of another one of her 72 hour reporting cycles. A young officer who had discharged her weapon and killed a person for the very first time. Technically, it had been an easy case, clear cut, one she could have let her team handle. But she had sensed a form a kinship with the young woman who had reminded her so much of her niece. She had spent most of the morning talking to her, making sure she didn't take this too hard, she got the proper help which in her case meant counselling. It was her well-practiced speech about being emotionally injured that Sharon knew well, and she was good at it because she spoke from her own experiences. She was tired, but it felt like a good day, a day full of accomplishments. She parked her car, collected her mail and exchanged a few words with the doorman. She always wondered what the man who was about her age thought of her and her on-off husband. He never spoke about it, never commented faithfully noting the changed access rights to her apartment whenever it happened and exchanging the key he kept in the wall safe every time she changed the locks.

She recognised Andy's handwriting and the stationery right away and a familiar feeling of dread settled in her stomach. Her first instinct was to throw the letter into the trash, unopened, and just ignore it. Which worked for the two hours it took her to store her groceries, get changed and straighten up the apartment. When she retired to the balcony, her second glass of wine in hand, the heaviness in her stomach became a dull ache she could no longer ignore. She really didn't want to think about Andy and what he could possibly want from her. But what if it was something important? They had barely seen each other since that last awful meeting in her office and one or two cases where their paths had crossed. Andy had stopped approaching her and she was grateful for small mercies. She knew he had been up to see Ricky very regularly and something told her that he might have found himself in a similar conversation about their 'relationship' as she had. Ricky was persistent – and he had actually asked about Andy and how things were going just last week. Oh no. She closed her eyes. Ricky had asked about a letter from Andy, but she had been too preoccupied in dealing with the fallout of Jack to ask for details. Dammit! If Ricky knew about the letter, and she knew her son, he wouldn't give up asking about it. Saying she dumped it in the trash didn't seem like a very eloquent response – and outright declining she had received it was lying, which she didn't do. Well, she thought and lifted herself up from her chair, she could at least get it out of the trash.

The letter was stained. Red wine and coffee grounds. Red wine from a lovely dinner with Judge Grove who, now that his wife had been dead for two years, had stopped trying to hide his admiration for her. But she couldn't think about that now, she would have to decide what to do with the letter. She brushed off the coffee grounds and dabbed the stain with some tissue paper before lifting it to her face. The moment she got a whiff of it she knew she shouldn't have done it. Andy. His aftershave or whatever it was what made him smell so good. How could it cling to a letter – and one that had been in the trash no less? Was she imagining this? The smell had elicited a visceral memory instantly transporting her mind and body back to years earlier, swirling in his arms, the taste of him on her lips. Oh God dammit! She pried the letter open in one jagged move ripping the envelope. Why did that even bother her? Not like she wanted to keep it – and it was spoilt with the stains anyway. The words blurred before her eyes as she unfolded the many thick sheets of paper and before she knew it, a tear had dropped down with a soft sound leaving a round circle where the ink was bleeding away. Trust Andy to use a fountain pen.

 _Dear Sharon,_

 _I want to apologise. There is so much I need to apologise for I don't even know where to start. Even though as an alcoholic I should be well familiar with the process of making amends. I've never done that with you, and while I know I have no right to expect that you will listen, I still want to try._

Her breath hitched and she had to take off her glasses and wipe furiously at her eyes to be able to continue. Did she want to read this? Did she really want to do this do herself? At least he hadn't blamed her yet. At least he hadn't attacked her yet.

 _I could start at the beginning with the night I asked the most beautiful girl at the party for a dance and almost got shot down for an odd looking drink. I could start with my first glass of pomegranate soda and why to this day I can't drink it without thinking of you. But I think I need to start with what happened recently, because I am not even sure how much you remember of that night._

Sharon's whole body jerked at the high pitched wail sounding like an animal in pain. It took her a few second to realise that she was the one who had made that sound. How much she remembered of that night? How much? Everything. Every little thing. It was more clear in her mind than the conversation with the officer at work this morning.

 _A part of me would like to think that night is as clear in your memory as it is in mine, because those are some of the fondest moments of my life, and another part hopes that you have forgotten because I know how badly I wronged you in the days, months and years that followed. But I think there is something more recent I need to apologise for first._

 _You are a wonderful woman, Sharon, you are gracious and kind and you are the best mother I could have wanted for Ricky. The more I get to know him, the more time I spent with him the more I can see the young man you have moulded him into. I never meant to suggest that you were irresponsible doing the job you are doing. I know I have no right to judge you – and that wasn't what I was doing. It's just that when I saw you barging into the house with us, without a vest and without a weapon, all I saw was Ricky's mom. I saw our son's face and what it would mean for him to loose you. I didn't see the police captain. I saw you and it scared the hell out of me._

 _You mean the world to me, Sharon, and I do realise just how difficult it is to imagine given how I treated you. But let me explain and let me make amends. With this letter I want to put it all on the table, I want you to know why I did what I did and most of all, I want you to know just how important you are to me still today._

It felt as if she had lost all contact with the ground, lost her bearings on life and herself. Her kitchen was starting to spin around her. This was too much. She had lived with the uncertainty for 19 years, she had had theory over theory, she had spent years hoping Andy might come around and at least talk to her, acknowledge her existence. She had arranged her life without him after that. She had arranged her life without Jack. She did not want to delve back into the past. She could not. She could not risk opening up those old wounds. Who knew if she would manage to put herself together again when her soul was still so sore from Jack's latest disappearance?

With quick purposeful steps she made her way over to her desk, slid the papers into a clean envelope and, making sure it was sealed properly, hid it in her bottom drawer. Then she leaned back with a sigh. She was Sharon Elisabeth O'Dwyer Raydor and she would not let men dictate her life anymore. If Andy felt he wanted to make amends, so be it. She didn't need to be a part of that. She had already been more than generous letting him get to know Ricky. She ran a finger under her eyes to wipe away her smudged mascara and took a deep cleansing breath. The past was best left in the past.


	14. Dying Message

**Chapter 13: Dying message**

 **December 2010**

Over the past weeks Sharon had taken the letter from its hiding place quite a few times and she had even gone as far as opening the envelope - only to seal it again when the tears began running down her face. _You mean the world to me._ That line was stuck in her head - and in her heart. The memory of their night together was becoming more and more clear, her nightly dreams of Andy adding detail and colour. Those dreams were good dreams for the most part, but contrary to the past when they had let her wake up happy, they now left her with an ache and an emptiness she could neither soothe nor fill. One morning after a particularly vivid dream, the taste of Andy's kisses still on her lips, she took the letter out of the envelope and smoothed the papers out on her lap. She started by reading those first paragraphs again though she needed have done it. She had already committed them to mind. Then, in an act of bravery, she skipped to the very last page.

 _If you're still reading at this point I must be a very lucky man. Now you know why I disappeared and acted like such a coward. Thank you for reading this and giving me the chance to explain myself._

 _I cannot ask for your forgiveness, because I know only too well that I don't deserve it._

 _I cannot justify my actions, because there simply is no way to justify them._

 _I can only imagine how much I hurt you. I made one mistake, and so many followed that first one. I never had the decency and strength to explain myself. Instead, I spent years convincing myself that I hated you while it was the complete opposite. I attacked you and fought with you every chance I got, because fighting with you meant you were paying attention to me. Sharon, you deserved none of all the hate I poured on you over the years. I am ashamed of the way I treated you. I was an asshole and an idiot._

 _I have no right to ask this, but I so wish I could find a way to interact with you as Ricky's father without hurting you more and more like I seem to have done over the past months. You have shown me so much trust by letting me get to know him – and I have paid you back in pain._

 _Forgive me, Sharon. Let me show you that I have changed, and that I want to make amends for the many ways in which I have wronged you over the years._

 _With all my love,_

 _Andy_

 _P.S.: I still dream of you almost every night. I didn't know that I also called out for you in my sleep until Ricky mentioned it during one of my visits. I know I have no right, but I hope against hope that we will become friends at some point. Sharon, I dream of holding you the way I held you all those years ago. I dream of a second chance for us._

Her hands were shaking as the writing became blurry. Without looking she folded the papers together and shoved them back into the envelope blindly reaching for the drawer she had kept it in. Only when it was safely back in its hiding place, the drawer once again firmly shut did she allow herself to let the tears fall.

How often had she dreamed of that second chance? Particularly during the early years: when the nurse had placed her newborn son into her arms and she had recognised Andy in him right away, when she had brought the little bundle home, during the nights she had tried to soothe her colicky baby, when she had celebrated his first birthday and Emily had blown out the candle on the cake asking why their dad didn't love them. Her dad who preferred to gamble and Ricky's dad who didn't even know he had a son.

She struggled whether to read the rest of the letter. Not today, she decided, but maybe on the weekend when she would have time to herself to deal with the fallout. She knew that learning the real reason Andy had left all those years ago would upset her. It had the potential to derail her life completely. She would finally have an answer to the question she had been asking herself for year. Why? Why had he left her without so much as a word?

And now he was looking for a second chance. A second chance for what? More pain and heartache? Love - the beginning of which she had been sure to feel during that night? She chided herself for her stupid thoughts and went for a run. But no matter how fast she ran and how exhausted she was, that little voice in her heart wouldn't stop. A second chance. But this was Andy Flynn. Officer Flynn. Lieutenant Flynn. The bane of her existence as her team jokingly called him. What kind of chance would that be?

Sharon was out having dinner with a few girlfriends when the call came in. Truth be told, she almost didn't pick up when she saw the caller ID. She had no desire to speak to Andy, no desire to speak to any man at all if she was being honest. A girls' night out was exactly what she needed. Even if it was the light version because she was technically on call and hence couldn't participate in the drinking. She rolled her eyes and stood up to move a little away from the group.

She picked up on the third ring, because, Andy Flynn or not, she had a job to do and she took that very seriously. The first thing she heard was his heavy breathing and a feeling of dread settled in her stomach. This wasn't one of his usual calls. His voice alone was enough to tell her that something was seriously wrong. It had none of its usual tease and lightness and sounded harrowed. She seemed to go on autopilot after that telling Flynn to stay were he was, putting money on the table while she confirmed the details with Dispatch, sliding her arms into her dark blue trench while she informed her team to join her at the crime scene and while waving goodbye to her friends she called the ambulance for good measure. A part of her knew this was irrational: Andy said that he had already called them, and so had Dispatch, but she needed to be sure.

The drive to the address, a church on the other side of town, was fraught with fear. He had been stabbed. She knew only too well just how dangerous these wounds could be. Back in her patrol days her partner had been stabbed and he had bled out in her arms before the ambulance had even had a chance to arrive. Granted, he hadn't even been able to speak after the attack, but the image of Andy lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood burned itself into her retina. She caught herself swearing when she was caught in a wave of red lights. She couldn't use lights and sirens, but she came very close to disregarding that rule. What kept her calm was the knowledge that the ambulance could do so and that there was a depot not far from the church. Andy would already be getting medical attention.

She could spot the crimescene from far away. There was ambulance and a number of black and whites. Before getting out of her car she reminded herself to remain calm. For all everyone knew, Andy was a notoriously difficult Lieutenant, and not the father of her son and the man who wrote her such wonderful letters. Oh dammit, she should have read the rest of that letter!

Her officers were waiting for her, briefing her the moment she stepped out of her car. The black and whites had been faster and had cordoned off the area with their yellow tape. There were bits of glass scattered everywhere, an upturned rubbish bin, two damaged cars. Her hands started shaking when she noticed the drops of blood on the ground and she pushed them deeply into her pockets so nobody would notice. Andy had fought for his life.

"Lieutenant Flynn is refusing to go to the hospital, Captain. Says he wants to give his statement first and is insisting he'll only give it to you," Sergeant Elliot offered with a nod towards the ambulance. Andy sat in the back, surrounded by paramedics. Thank God, she thought, at least he was alive and immediately chastised herself for the feeling of relief that flooded through her. It was only for Ricky's sake, she kept telling herself, because she didn't want him to loose the father he had only just met and it had nothing to do with his letter or that second chance he had asked for.

"Let me walk you over there, Captain," Elliot interrupted her thoughts.

"No need. You make sure nothing is disturbed here."

"What a time for Lieutenant Flynn to remember the rules, eh?" he chuckled and she gave him a sharp nod. "That will be all, Sergeant." She turned on her heel and walked towards the ambulance, her officers following behind, her heart racing.

There was blood on his face and seeping through the bandage on his abdomen. He was fighting the paramedics but she could see they stood no chance against him.

"Let them do their job, Lieutenant," she reminded him gently, making sure to use his title. She schooled her face into a calm expression and listened to him, but when he fell over she couldn't not touch his shoulder, couldn't not try to prop him up. That short touch, entirely unintentional on his part, she was sure, shot through her like a bolt of lightening.

She had touched him. That was all Andy remembered. She had touched him and he had felt safe just because of her. Throughout all the pain and the hazy fog he remembered her beautiful eyes framed by harsh dark glasses and that hair. Sharon's hair. At least he had seen her again, he thought as he was struggling to stay conscious. There was so much he still wanted to say, about the attack, but about them, too. Had she read his letter? Did she know how he felt about her? This was Sharon, his Sharon and this might be his last chance to tell her how much he loved her. The last thing he heard was her voice "He better wake up!" Yes, she would be ordering the EMTs around because that's what she would do. Captain Raydor. His Sharon. Red and blue lights. Flashing. Tell her. Sharon. Then everything went black.

Sharon could hear the ambulance drive off as she retraced the drops of blood Andy's attacker had left. It was only after she had put out the hospital alert that she took a deep breath. She needed a moment by herself to collect her thoughts and remain as calm and professional as her team expected her to be, as she owed everyone to be. She wasn't the mother of Andy's son right now, she was a police officer and she had a job to do.

"Captain Raydor? Lieutenant Flynn briefly regained consciousness on the way to the hospital. He is refusing treatment unless they pass on a message."

"A message?" And what do I have to do with that, she added in her thoughts.

"He insisted we tell you, and only you. He said he had a message for Ricky."

She squared her shoulders. "What's the message, Sergeant?"

"To tell Ricky that he loves him – and to tell Ricky's mother that he's never loved anyone like her and that he is sorry for hurting her. Do you know who this Ricky is? His son, maybe? But then he would have said the name of his wife, too, wouldn't he? I didn't even know he was married. Did you?"

"Sergeant, thank you for delivering the message," she said sharply, "and now, rather than waste your time speculating about things that aren't your business in the first place, please go back to your work."

Only years of training helped her keep her professional mask firmly in place. Those might have been Andy's last breaths – and he had used them to tell her he loved her.


	15. Attraction

**Chapter 14: Attraction**

 **December 2010**

It was already dark outside and visiting hours were long over when Andy became aware of a discussion that seemed to be going on right outside his door. He smiled when he recognised one of the voices. Just hearing her was enough to soothe his aching body. Sharon. His Sharon. She was here! He could only make out parts of the conversation, something about a constitutional mandate and an investigation that couldn't wait. What? Had something happened that Sharon had to talk to him now? The team had been texting him updates throughout the day, but there hadn't been anything in particular. Or maybe, just maybe she had gotten his message and … his thoughts were interrupted by a series of rapid knocks. Even the way she knocked on the door of a hospital room carried a sense of urgency, a staccato not unlike the sound of her heels.

"Come in," he said turning on his bedside lamp. Sharon's face appeared and she smiled tentatively, but it was Captain Raydor who spoke to him. "Lieutenant Flynn, I urgently need to go over some points of your statement again to ensure procedure was followed. Do you feel up to doing that now?"

"Sure," Andy nodded, curious and somewhat taken aback by the tone of her voice. Procedure? Was she in all seriousness going to ride his ass about not following procedure?

Sharon closed the door and leaned back against it with her eyes closed. "I … I'm sorry to barge into your room at this time of night. There is nothing wrong with your statement, but visiting hours are over…"

"So you faked urgent police business. Nothing I haven't done before," he said with a wink and motioned to the chair at the side of his bed. "I'm glad you're here, Sharon. Why don't you take a seat?"

He had never seen her look unsure of herself, but her steps were small and she seemed almost reluctant to sit down.

Sharon tried to shake herself out of her daze. She had come here with an agenda. Not a clear one, but she had come because … well, because Andy had almost died today and he had sent her that message, the message that he loved her. She was here because he wanted a second chance and she had so very many questions and a heart so very, very confused. She took a deep breath.

"Why did you call me last night?"

The words came out so quickly that they almost sounded like an attack. Andy looked at her trying to gauge her mood. God, she was so damn hard to read. Her question had merit. Of course it had. She wouldn't be asking it otherwise. You never called FID directly, you called dispatch and they took take of everything else, ambulances, backup, FID, particularly when you were hurt, bleeding out on some church parking lot late in the evening.

"What I meant to say is: I'm not here in any official capacity, Andy. I just … why did you call _me_?"

Could he tell her why he had really called her? She was still standing in the middle of the room, hands buried deeply in the pockets of that dark coat. God, how he wished he could just wrap his arms around her, hold her close. He wanted to bury his nose in her hair and find out if it still felt as soft as he remembered.

"You said it was my lucky day. _My lucky day!_ Andy, I know we have a difficult history, but that doesn't mean I rejoice in you getting hurt!"

"God Sharon, no! No, I didn't call you because of that I … my sense of humour was a little off."

She rolled her eyes and he decided that was not what she had wanted to hear. So he tried again, "Did you manage to speak to Ricky?"

The abrupt change of topic didn't seem to faze her. Quite the contrary, actually. Ricky was a relatively safe topic to talk about – as long as they were alone. For a brief moment he could see the irony and how far they had already come. Far? He should stop kidding himself.

Sharon nodded. She had called Ricky the moment she knew Andy was out of danger. But she hadn't been able to relay her son's message to his father earlier with Chief Johnson at his bedside. For a moment she imagined the shocked look on the Chief's face if she had and her lips curled into a small smile.

"Yes, I spoke to him. Relayed your message. He says hello and to keep the sappy stuff for when he comes to visit."

That beautiful smile of hers, however small it might be, was infectious and Andy couldn't suppress a laugh. That was probably _exactly_ what Ricky had told her. "That sounds very much like him! Thank you for calling him, Sharon."

"You're welcome."

Her posture looked less like she was going to bolt from the room at any moment, but she was far from comfortable. She stood there on those mile-high heels swaying slightly from side to side. Andy repeated his invitation to sit down and this time she followed it. She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose with a barely suppressed sigh.

"How are you, Andy? Are you sure I'm not disturbing you?" She had passed on Ricky's message; maybe the rest could wait. After all, Andy had been badly injured and he needed to rest.

He loved it when she called him Andy. She hadn't called him Lieutenant tonight, well, once, but that had been for the benefit of the nurse. "You're not disturbing me at all, Sharon. I'm actually really glad you're here."

"You must be in pain." She pointed to the infusion. "I assume they're only giving you what's safe?" Pain briefly flashed across her features.

Sharon took him in, this man who still made her heart beat faster: he looked good despite the cuts and bruises on his face, his hair no longer jet black, the features of his face softened by age, his dark eyes still just as mesmerising as they had been all those years ago. She smiled back at him suddenly feeling nervous and insecure. Had she been right to come here tonight? She could have just as easily called him or sent a message letting him know she had spoken to Ricky. Come to think of it, Ricky could have talked to his father directly.

"Only non-narcotic stuff. It helps to take the edge off."

Her eyes widened for a moment filled with yet more pain.

"Sharon."

The sound of his voice made shivers run down her spine. How could he _still_ do that after so much time and so very much heartache? Why could he _still_ do that to her? Why did she _still_ allow herself to be so affected by him? He had almost died today and his last words had been meant for her, and for their son. A fist gripped her heart at the thought of loosing him, this man who had never been hers in the first place.

"Thank you for coming here tonight."

"Andy," he voice broke and she cleared her throat, "I have so many questions."

The prospect of answering all these questions made Andy giddy with excitement. He wasn't sure whether she had read his letter, but she was here now and she had questions and they had time.

"I'm just not sure that now is the best time to talk about them."

His heart sank. "But you're here, and so am I. Please stay, Sharon," he pleaded.

"You're injured. God, Andy, you almost died last night. You almost died and you called me and then you left that message with the paramedic and … was that true? I know people say all sorts of things when they think they are dying and I won't hold you to it…"

"It's true, Sharon. It's true."

His words hung between them, they filled the room, expanded and swirled around until they had reached every corner. Sharon could feel the change as if somebody had opened a window to her heart, her very soul and fresh air was blowing in. She closed her eyes and leant back in the chair.

God, she was beautiful! Andy could still see the young woman he had fallen in love with. She was no longer that woman. Age had added some lines around her mouth – from worry, and some creases around her eyes – from laughter. Her hair was fuller and more luscious than he remembered it and shimmered softly where it caught the light. Her face was like a canvas, open to him as he watched her thoughts play out on it. He knew he was only on minimal, non-narcotic pain relief, so this was reality and not some drug-induced hallucination. Sharon Raydor was sitting at his bedside and now her lips were stretching into a smile and her eyes opened. They were brimming with unshed tears. He watched her as she got up and took off her trench coat, her calm, almost serene movements in sharp contrast to earlier – and to the wealth of emotion showing on her face. She sat back down pulling the chair up to the bed, her hand coming to rest next to his on the mattress, close enough for him to feel her warmth but not touching him. He swallowed hard.

"It's always been true … it's just that I've screwed up, I was a coward, and I hurt you."

Her heart contracted painfully. They were getting close to that part of the letter she hadn't read yet. "Andy, what happened?" she asked softly nudging his hand with hers. "I never understood what happened. We kissed and said goodbye … and you disappeared." She looked at him intently, openly and he didn't look away but held her gaze. He could still feel the fleeting touch of her hand, a burn he was sure had left an imprint on his skin.

"I never answered your earlier question," he began and couldn't believe when Sharon chuckled in response, "Am I asking too many questions, Andy?"

"Never. Never too many, Sharon. Yesterday … you know I almost didn't manage to fight the guy off and I could feel how much blood I was loosing and all I could think of was you and that I never got to apologise. I … dammit, I wanted to see you Sharon. _You_. Not the head of IA. I wanted to talk to you and have a chance to tell you what happened all those years ago – before it was too late."

She furrowed her eyebrows, but her hand remained next to his on the mattress, close but not touching, "It's not in your letter?"

"It is. So you got my letter?"

"I did," she confirmed and looked intently at the linoleum flooring underneath her feet.

"Did you read it?" Andy said with a hint of amusement in his voice. While he was waiting with baited breath for her to raise her face, a part of him couldn't help but find her insecurity quite adorable. Oh how he longed to take her into his arms! But Sharon only flexed her foot and started playing with the heel dangling off of it.

"I don't do well with letters, never have," she haltingly admitted and it might have been the dim light, but he was sure he could see a slight blush creep up her face. "I only read parts of it." Then she lifted her face and looked right into his eyes, "Andy, what happened that morning?"

Her eyes were that beautiful green and for a moment her face was open to him, vulnerable, waiting for him to explain himself. Andy hoped that the truth he was about to tell her wouldn't hurt her even more. She had to know why he had acted like such a coward; she _deserved_ to know.

"I fell in love with you that night. With your smile and the way you talked; with what you said and how you smiled at me; with the way you looked at me and saw so much more than I did. I remember the taste of my first pomegranate and soda and the colour of your drink, the way your hand felt in mine when we danced. I remember the feeling of your lips against mine, I remember the smell of your perfume..."

She drew in a sharp breath and clasped her hands in front of her mouth, but her eyes implored him to go on.

"I remember every word of our conversation and I remember the taste of our first kiss. Sharon, I've never experienced anything like that. I … I just knew you were the one."

She bent over as though in pain and a sound ripped from her body that cut deep into his heart. Then her shoulders started shaking. Andy tried to sit up to get closer to her, but he could feel his stitches ripping with the movement. He tried again, unsuccessfully and suppressed a groan.

"The next morning at the beach … I knew that I loved you, and only you. I woke up with you in my arms and I knew."

Her head whipped around, her eyes bright and alert despite the tears. "Wait! You knew you loved me? When we woke up?"

"I did, without a shadow of doubt!" Andy said emphatically.

"But did you say it? I mean … I heard you call me sweetheart just before I fell asleep, but … did you say that you loved me? That morning when we woke up?"

He nodded, "I did."

Suddenly her hand was on his, her fingers closing around his and holding onto them tightly while tears continued to run down her face. "I've been dreaming of that moment for years - and I've always told myself it was just a figment of my imagination! You said that you loved me and that one day you'd tell me just how soon you knew, didn't you?"

"That is _exactly_ what I said."

Her hold on his hand was like hot iron, almost painful, her whole arm shaking with the force of her grip. "I was awake, Andy! I was awake and I heard every single word you said. Gosh, I … I've never been sure whether you really said it or whether it was just a dream."

"It wasn't a dream, Sharon. I did tell you I loved you."

He tried a tentative smile and when she returned it, his turned into the wide grin she remembered so well. Her hand still rested on his, her touch now soft and infinitely gentle. He tried to commit the feeling to memory to hold onto for all eternity. For the first time in years, decades even, they were talking and her hand was warm and light on his and she was crying but she wasn't running away.

When she spoke, her voice was still a little shaky, "But why did you disappear? You didn't even try to contact me and when you came back - Andy, I know that you watched me. I saw you! You could see I was pregnant – and you just stood there and watched me!"

"Because I was embarrassed."

Suddenly the Captain Raydor he'd been sparring with the past decades was back. Her hand was gone leaving him feeling cold. She sat up straight, the lack of glasses taking away nothing from her authority as she fixed him with a look that made his blood freeze.

"We spent a night together, you told me you loved me – and that is all you can say? You were embarrassed? Goddammit! How do you think I felt? Andy, I was carrying your child for God's sake! When I found out I wanted nothing more than to tell you and see your face when you heard the news! Hell, I was embarrassed, too. Telling my family I was pregnant and knowing, knowing that the baby wasn't Jack's? That was embarrassing! It was more than merely embarrassing, it was a lie. I've spent my life living a lie!"

"No!" he shouted back instinctively and somewhere in him he registered his surprise that she hadn't yet left. "No," he said again more calmly. She was getting this all wrong, he was _doing_ this all wrong. Here he was with his one chance to make it right and he was blowing it. Shit! "I wasn't embarrassed about you, or the fact that you were pregnant! I honestly never thought the baby was mine, it didn't even occur to me."

She huffed and put her glasses back on, the newly intensified glare making him shiver. He _had_ to get this right. He only had this one chance to get it right.

"When … when I came back to LA I really wanted to talk to you and … hang on, let me start at the beginning."

"You better," she spit out.

To Andy she looked like she was about to leave, but something seemed to be holding her back. She deserved the truth. She deserved to know why he had acted like such a jerk. Andy took a deep breath and winced slightly as the movement of his chest pulled at his stitches. He received a raised eyebrow in response urging him to start explaining.

"The beginning, when I saw you at that midsummer night's party, when we talked and danced and you made me drink pomegranate juice in front of my friends and think nothing of it. You don't know, and how should you, but that night I made the decision to stop drinking. You, Sharon, you gave me the strength to do what I should have done years before. You believed in me. You thought I could do it. The moment we left the beach I drove home for a change of clothes and then checked myself into rehab. I wanted to see you again so badly, but I wanted to do it clean, and sober. I dreamt about you every single night. I wanted to stand in front of you and show you the man I had become – and then ask you out on a proper date and a night of dancing."

There was a sparkle in her eyes now, a warmth that drove away the trepidation in his heart. Her eyes narrowed a little as though something inside of her was smiling. Emboldened, he continued. "When I finally came back to LA, I still wasn't sober and you were pregnant and Jack was back. I was embarrassed about _myself_ , okay? I was embarrassed that I had failed. I was embarrassed that I was still drinking!"

"Six months, Andy. You disappeared for six long months!"

"Because I failed. Okay? I really failed. I tried rehab. Twice! And I failed _both_ times. I had signed up for one of these exchanges we were doing with the SFPD at the time and when they offered me a place, I went for it thinking the change of scenery might help me. It didn't."

"I wondered what had happened to you, Andy. Particularly when I found out I was carrying a souvenir of our night. I searched for you."

"I didn't want to tell you about rehab, I wanted to surprise you once it was done. It was a mistake, Sharon, I should have called you and told you were I was and how much I liked you. I should have. So I resolved I would talk to you when I got back from San Francisco, sober or not, but when I saw you again you looked so happy - and so beautiful with your round belly. I never for a second thought that the baby you were carrying was ours. If I'd known, I never would have left."

"I _told_ you that Jack hadn't been home in months. Months, Andy! I _told_ you about the separate bank accounts. Why on earth would I want to have a child with him?" Her green eyes were glistening with tears as she shook her head in disbelief. Her anger was gone now, but her disappointment and the look of hurt in her face were much harder for him to bear.

"Because I saw you, okay? The first day I was back I saw you. He picked you up from work and you laughed and he put his arm around you and helped you get up – and you looked so happy. He looked really proud and he … he touched your stomach and you laughed and leaned into him."

"That wasn't Jack." Her voice was flat.

"You looked like a couple, Sharon, the way you smiled at him and the way he touched you …"

"I said that wasn't Jack. It was his brother, Marc. He supported me when Jack was gone. He was the only person who ever knew Ricky wasn't Jack's and he died with a secret that wasn't his to carry," she swallowed hard trying to forget her last conversation with Marc and for a moment her mind was caught elsewhere, in a past even more painful than her present. Andy could tell by the far away look on her face while he watched her, waiting for her eyes to connect with his again.

"You seemed happy," he finally said and then she look up at – full of fury.

"What did you expect me to look like? I had two children to think of! I had to forge ahead and make a life for the three of us! You could have said hello. Anything. Acknowledged me in some way."

"God, Sharon, I left because I wanted to come back to you a new man, a changed man. I wanted to offer you a real future – and not just a life at the side of another drunk. And I had failed and you seemed happy, you really did. What would you have wanted with a man like me?"

Her hand had come up to cover the lower part of her face, her eyes opened wide as though in shock, her body trembling.

"That choice wasn't yours to make. Don't you think I would have been there for you through rehab? Don't you think I would have fought just as hard for the father of my son as I fought for the father of my daughter? I would have fought for you, Andy! I would have fought and you never even gave me the chance!"

His mind had gone numb while he watched her wrapping her arms tightly around herself, crying without making a single sound.

"Sharon," he said, his voice breaking.

The reproach in her face was almost more than he could bear. "Oh Sharon," he tried again, desperate. "I am so sorry."

A single sob and then that eerie quiet again as the tears continued to fall and the look in her eyes broke his heart into a thousand little pieces.

"Sharon, let me hold you."

Her green eyes bore into his and she nodded ever so slightly, but made no move to get closer to him. She nodded again, more pronounced this time, and her eyes seemed to call out to him. Andy struggled to sit up, fighting against the pain that shot through his abdomen when his stomach muscles tensed. He could feel his stitches ripping one by one but he didn't care. They could sow him up again later. Right now he needed to hold her. There was a moment when he came close to loosing consciousness and it was only the sight of her, barely out of his reach, that kept him from fainting. With another push he finally got himself upright and close enough to put a hand on her shoulder. It felt bony and looked small compared to his big hand.

That one small touch was all it took and she was in his arms, her face buried into his chest and his arms wrapped around her as though they had been doing it all their lives. Her whole body shook with silent sobs as he held her close for the first time in almost twenty years and swore to never again let go.


	16. Old Money

Authors's Note: I apologise in advance for the copious use of swearwords in this chapter. You've been warned.

* * *

 **Chapter 15: Old Money**

 **December 2010**

Andy cradled her in his arms while she cried, her grip on him strong, tears hot against his skin. He asked for her forgiveness over and over. He hoped she would say something, at least acknowledge she was hearing him, but she didn't utter a single word. Instead, she continued to cry these silent tears that shook her whole body and freaked him out. Oh God, what had he done to her? Maybe he shouldn't have told her the truth. He had ripped open old wounds, maybe even hurt her anew and she seemed inconsolable.

Still, she _was_ lying in his arms and he held her close. His side hurt like hell, but Sharon's presence was a balm. The pain didn't seem quite so bad when her hair tickled his face and her breath was warm and humid against his neck. He moved one hand into her locks running his fingers through the silky tresses and gently massaging her scalp. She hummed at the contact and he could feel her body beginning to relax. He was listening to that wonderful sound that seemed to calm her as well. He stroked her head and down her back wanting to touch every inch of her. Her hair was so soft and smooth, her no doubt very expensive silk blouse felt different from the simple dress she had worn that night. Her shoulders were still bony, small for the large weight they had had to carry for so long. He had become a little fuller round the middle. She was slim as ever. Her perfume had changed and he liked this scent, too. It was different, but not too different. It smelt powerful rather than fresh.

Her tears stopped and her body moulded against his as effortlessly as it had done all those years ago. He could feel her relax with every breath. Finally, she fell asleep warm and solid on his aching body. Andy knew something wasn't right with his stitches, but he would talk to the nurse about that in the morning. For now, he was holding Sharon and he would hold her for as long as she let him.

So he lay there, his hands roaming the parts of her body he could reach: her head, her hair, down her back, down her arms. She shifted a little now and then, but remained asleep. He gently pulled her so she could lie down properly with him. The way half her body hung down from the bed didn't look comfortable and with one last effort he managed to at least place her feet on the chair. There, that looked better. The woman in his arms groaned in protest but didn't wake up.

Good God, this was real! Captain Sharon Raydor was sleeping in his arms. His Sharon was back in his arms – and she knew. He had finally told her everything and here she was – still with him. She had cried, but she had done so in his arms. She had let him comfort him and now she was sleeping peacefully, beautiful despite the smudged make-up underneath her eyes.

Andy woke up several times throughout the night, but never quite enough to become fully conscious. He noticed Sharon stirring and at some point she must have shifted her position, her body now stretched out alongside his. There was a cute little smile on her face and he just couldn't resist. He pressed his lips to hers for the briefest of moments. Damn, that was what he wanted! To kiss Sharon. Again and again. But he wanted her to be awake for it. He wanted her consent and he wanted the little noises she made in the back of her throat. He wanted to feel her respond, wanted her arms around him, wanted to hear how her breath hitched. Instead he buried his nose in her fragrant hair and let sleep claim him.

He dreamt of Sharon lying in bed with him, talking on the phone and slipping away. He dreamed of whispered words and a kiss so soft he almost didn't notice it. He was suddenly cold. He pulled up the covers asking Sharon to come back, but she didn't. His eyelids were like lead. Damn, what kind of medication did they have him on? His body hurt all over, the stitches in his side burned and he felt woozy. Maybe that was a side effect of the blood loss.

It took him a while to fully come to and find himself in an empty bed. Where was Sharon? Had this all been a dream? He lifted the sheet to his nose and her scent enveloped him. Sharon. Then he discovered a long auburn hair and some smudges of dark make-up on his shirt. No, she had definitely been here. He groaned in pain and confusion. Where had she gone? And why had she left without even saying goodbye? Oh God. She hadn't forgiven him! She had heard the full story, the full extent of his stupidity and cowardliness and had decided to leave. God, no, he had blown it! He had had one chance and he had blown it. Oh dammit! He had to get out of this bed and find her, he needed to see her! With all his strength he lifted himself up and almost cried out at the pain shooting through his side. Sharon.

The nurse came in a little later and found him staring aimlessly at the ceiling. She didn't even seem surprised that he had ripped his stitches and didn't deliver the expected lecture. Instead she sewed him up with an inexplicable cheerfulness that grated on his nerves. He offered up a little prayer for the lidocaine that at least numbed the pain in his side, if not his head.

Provenza picked him up and drove him home for a change of clothes. He didn't have to battle with his old friend: he, too would want to be part of the investigation and would insist on coming to the station. If he noticed that Andy checked his phone more than usually, he didn't say. But there were no messages from her, not even a little 'How are you?' or 'I'm sorry I had to leave early, didn't want to wake you."

The reappearance of that dirtbag Rick Zuman gave him something else to focus on, but the longer the day dragged on the more agitated he became. They needed to talk. He needed to know that they were okay! By lunchtime he had worked himself into a frenzy convinced that she wanted to nothing to do with him.

A little later he was convinced that he hated her: she looked stunning considering she had spent a large part of the night crying and hadn't gotten much sleep. Her clothes were immaculate and her hair was so luscious he wanted to go and push his hands into it, bury his nose in the scented softness. A part of him wished that they were alone, that he could ask what had happened. Another part was furious: Who did she think she was - sneaking out of his hospital room, hell, out of his _bed_ without a single word to go and investigate him like some common off the street criminal? Fuck.

"You knew about these charges claiming that Lieutenant Flynn forcefully intimidated a witness in Rick Zuman's case and you didn't say anything about it?" the Chief asked incredulously.

Sharon's face was as impassive and professional as her voice "By law I can't tell you. Forcefully intimidating a witness is a serious and confidential accusation." Her voice rose a little higher and she looked directly at him. "We can't just tell the suspect."

"I almost get killed and suddenly I'm a suspect," he spit out angrily.

"So you've just been pretending to be helpful here so you can investigate Andy, is that right?"

Hell, yeah, that's what he wanted to know, too. Had she only come to his hospital room last night and listened to him because she wanted to find out more about him? No, that was ridiculous. The woman at his bedside last night had been Sharon, not Captain Raydor. A beautiful and deeply distraught woman had listened to him last night, had looked at him with her heart laid bare, had lain in his arms her body shaking with the force of her tears. His visitor last night had been Sharon, he had to believe that.

"No, that is not right. I didn't know the Rick Zuman case was connected to the attempt on Lieutenant Flynn's life until today." Sharon's eyes briefly veered over to the chief, but they came back to Andy, focussing intently on him. These eyes!

"Well, the minute you found out about it you should have told me!" He knew that tone in the Chief's voice and it never boded well.

"No, I couldn't! Okay, here is how it works. Every time I get a defence request for a Pitchess Motion we are required by law to look into the history of the accused officer's behaviour without notifying him or his division. Most officer's packages, Lieutenant, are about this big. Yours is huge!"

In any other context he would have laughed about her choice words, would have told her he wouldn't mind her taking more time with his 'package' and offered it up for closer inspection by the head of FID herself.

"It's crammed with accusations." She spoke with such intensity that her whole body shook, even her hair.

"Exonerated of every charge," he shot back, the pain in his body only serving to fuel his anger. Hadn't she read his file? Hell, she had written most of it! He moved towards her with narrowed eyes.

"But your history lends credence to Rick Zuman's case and to Floria's new testimony."

Floria Stenzel? Had she ever even talked to that woman? Dammit!

They were standing close now, not in each other's personal space, but they were close considering the size of the room and that there had been a table between them at some point.

"Well, Floria's lying. She found God? I bet she found him under a big wad of old money!" Andy didn't even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and Sharon … was that a smirk he saw? She tilted her head in that way of hers and her lips … yes, she smirked.

Then she shook her head, suddenly standing a few inches taller, her voice more rapid, her foot almost tapping along to the melody of her sentence. "That may be so, Lieutenant, but in the meantime we are going to precisely follow the law."

Precisely! Follow! The law! The words echoed in his mind, every resonance making him more angry. The law! That's what it always boiled down to for Captain Sharon Raydor: the law!

The chief gave a short, high-pitched groan. "Okay, here we go."

"Yes, here we go. Ballistics came back." Sharon threw another folder onto the table. "Lieutenant Flynn's bullets did match those in Bob Harris, so this is officially an officer-involved shooting. Also, you can no longer participate in the investigation of Rick Zuman because he will claim that you will once again stack the deck against him."

Trust her to leave keep the deadly blow for the last very moment. Not only was she investigating him, she, the woman who had fallen asleep in his arms last night was calling him a suspect and now she was pulling him off the goddamn case. Nobody knew Zuman better than him. Nobody! Damn her!

"I'm not leaving." He was surprised how calm and collected his voice sounded.

"She's right," the Chief interrupted, "You need to go home, get some rest, okay? Let me handle this."

Sharon looked at him and he looked right back at her. He could feel her eyes burning into the back of his skull while he through walked the room. Already out the door he turned around once more. Her green eyes were burning with a consuming intensity. It almost looked as though she was trying to tell him something, but he refused to understand. Goddammit, she was beautiful! She turned him on and aggravated him all at the same time. No, he wouldn't let himself be treated like this, no matter the way she looked at him. She and her stupid rules. The law! Would a little heads-up have been too much to ask? Damn that woman, she hadn't even said goodbye to him and gone straight from his bed to investigating him!

Maybe she was right. Now she knew why he had left her alone all those years ago. He couldn't expect her forgiveness, he didn't deserve it. That was why he had been begging so hard for it last night. Maybe knowing the real reason why he left didn't change anything for her.

And why should it?


	17. Pitchess Motion

**Chapter 16: Pitchess Motion**

 **December 2010**

She woke up with a warm and fuzzy feeling in her heart and an inexplicable ache in her neck. It took her a moment to get her bearings. Her body was twisted in an odd way. Had she fallen asleep at her desk again? No, this wasn't the hard wooden surface she knew rather well. She was lying on something warm - and it was moving. She took a deep breath.

Andy.

Andy?

And then the memories of the previous night came flooding back. Their conversation, how Andy had taken her into his arms, his hands stroking her hair almost reverently and the low vibrations of his voice as he asked her for forgiveness over and over.

They must have fallen asleep like that. Now she was half sitting on his bed, her upper body cradled in his arms while her legs rested on the chair. Her back hurt, too, now that she became aware of it, and he was snoring softly in tune with the sinking and lifting of his chest.

Andy.

Carefully not to jostle him she moved until her body was stretched out at his side. He grumbled and held on to her more tightly.

Gosh. Andy.

Her heart fluttered with excitement and happiness. How endearing that he wouldn't let go of her even in sleep. She pulled the thin cover over her head and breathed in his smell. Her whole world started spinning and for once she welcomed it. It hadn't been a dream. That one memory she had doubted so many times over the years hadn't been a dream. She hadn't just imagined the mutual attraction, the tenderness, the feeling that something special had been about to begin – and Andy …

Gosh, Andy.

What a chivalrous and completely idiotic thing to do. But she could just see him do it. Impulsive as he was, well-meaning most of the time, unable to turn around once he had made a decision and finally, chickening out. She had observed the same kind of behaviour in her son many a time. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The small space underneath the blanket was filled with Andy's scent. Her mind was racing: What did this mean for them and for their future? He said he loved her, but did that mean he wanted them to be in a relationship? Did _she_ want to be in a relationship with him? And how much did they really know each other? Was their one night spent together, the son they shared and well, whatever it was that they had now, enough? Was that enough? Here, safe in his arms she thought that they could make it work. Last night she had made the decision to let go of the hurt – at least for a moment - and just let herself feel, let herself experience all her memories and emotions without shutting them down. Despite the tears and heartache it had been a thoroughly exhilarating experience.

The vibrations of her phone in her pocket woke her up and this time it didn't take her quite as long to get her bearings. She was in a hospital bed, more specifically _in Andy's hospital bed_ , snuggled into his side. He was still snoring lightly, something he definitely hadn't done all these years ago, but then that might also be due to the medication he was on. Rather than leave his warmth she chose to answer the call in a low whisper.

She quickly regretted that decision as Sergeant Elliot started explaining the new complaint of witness tampering against Lieutenant Flynn. In keeping with their little agreement he had called her directly. Nobody but the Captain dealt with Flynn and of course Elliot had no idea that she was at this very moment resting in arms of the man she would have to investigate. Talk about a conflict of interest! She quietly thanked the young Sergeant and when she hung up the phone she saw a text message from Ricky asking how Andy was doing. She sighed. This was not a good situation. Her life was already so closely entangled with Andy's and now she had to go over his file - again. She would have to play by the book, even more so than she usually did. She would be above reproach. She was fairly sure she would be able to clear him of the accusation, just like she had done in the past. Both of their reputations would remain intact - not that Andy seemed to worry too much about his, but she did, if only for Ricky's sake.

Sighing, she placed a soft kiss against the underside of his jaw and tenderly ran her hand over his torso. There was dried blood on his shirt and she lifted it with trepidation. She could she the torn stitches, but the bleeding had stopped. Sighing once more, she pulled the fabric back down and resolved to tell one of the nursing staff. Her eyes went back to his face. He looked exhausted and even in sleep he seemed to be in pain. Non-narcotic pain relievers only, she remembered. So maybe he always snored these days and it wasn't the medication that caused it. A warm feeling flooded through her and she leaned in and brushed her lips over his. The touch was too light, too fleeting for her to feel much, but she wouldn't do more, not now. She wanted Andy to be awake and she wanted him to hold her in his strong arms for their first kiss. She wanted him to be the one to initiate it. Well, how very old-fashioned she had suddenly become!

Careful not to hurt or wake him she extracted herself from his embrace and, accompanied by his unhappy mumbles, crept out of the hospital room. The nurse from last night was still on duty. She looked up at the sound of Sharon's heels and gave her a wink when she recognised her.

"I checked on Lieutenant Flynn last night and what I saw didn't look an awful lot like official police business."

Sharon stopped, awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

"Don't worry, honey, your secret's safe with me. You should have seen his vitals last night. I could probably tell you the exact time you snuck in there. You're certainly doing wonders for his blood pressure."

"Uh. Eh. Well. Thank you," she stuttered, blushing. "I'm glad my visit was beneficial for Lieutenant Flynn."

"Lieutenant Flynn? You two seem way past the point of addressing each other by your ranks."

"Gosh, that we are!" Sharon blurted out, trying to smooth down her messy hair. "Would you check on his stitches when he wakes up? I think he might have torn some of them."

The nurse winked again, "Don't you worry, honey, we'll put him back together for you."

"You better do!" It was a far cry from the order she had given the paramedic a little more than a day ago. "So, uh, goodbye then, and please do look after him well."

Sharon left the hospital with a skip in her step. She wasn't at work yet so she could allow herself a few more minutes to indulge in her dreams. Her heart was fluttering at the thought of Andy and their conversation last night. She texted Ricky back to let him know Andy was recovering as well as could be expected adding a little smiley face to the end of the message. She would arrive at work later than planned, but that couldn't be helped. She needed to go home and shower, change into a new suit. It was early morning still and Sergeant Elliot had only informed her because he had been on the end of another 72 hour reporting cycle and had checked new defence requests before going home. Rick Zuman. She had never heard the name before.

She should have taken more time, she reflected. She should have taken more time in to enjoy that wonderful feeling because the day had steadily gone downhill. She should have woken Andy and told him goodbye instead of sneaking out of his room at the crack of dawn. She should have talked to him in the morning, not about the investigation, but about the night before, about where they stood. Maybe pressed her lips against his while he was awake. The thought alone made her heart jump a little. She should have called him before meeting with him in the interview room for a conversation she knew he would take badly. She had fallen asleep in his arms last night, crying, and then she had left him to wake up alone and now they were standing across from each other like enemies, so many words unsaid, so many insecurities, old wound reopened and left unattended.

His file was like lead in her arms. Chief Johnson went on the attack right away. Andy's face turned into an angry scowl within seconds. That was more anger than she'd seen from him in a long time. Surely he knew that she was only doing her job? That by telling him or his Chief about the investigation she would have _endangered_ rather than protected him? Couldn't he see that she was on his side, had _always_ been on his side? A part of her mind registered how very attractive he looked, his eyes dark with anger and the soft pink shirt complimenting his skintone. She held onto his file throughout the discussion. It felt like the only part of him that she could touch, connecting her to him even when she told him he could no longer be part of the investigation. Chief Johnson came to her aide in a rather surprising alliance, telling Andy to go home and let her handle it. Sharon couldn't say that she disagreed. Both her and Andy's emotions were bubbling too close to the surface for them to work together now. They wouldn't find common ground when the rest of their joint life was lying so raw and open.

Already halfway out the door Andy turned around and gave her one last look that was no longer angry, but confused and spoke of a deep hurt. She silently pleaded for his understanding, her eyes connecting with his. All she wanted was for him to understand. She wanted to stand close enough to feel the heat of his body, to lean into him and tell him that she would do everything to exonerate him, that she believed him. His hard accusing look went right to her heart and whatever was left of the giddy joy of the early morning evaporated.

Oh Andy. Such awful timing.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the Chief claimed her attention. While she was handing over the information on Floria Stenzel she briefly wondered if she would have done the same for any other officer. Yes, she would have. She was doing her job. She was remaining professional. But that realisation didn't stop her heart from hurting.

That night Sharon stayed up late studying the file she already knew almost by heart. Normally the would have followed the 'Raydor Method', a certain way of going through an accused officers file in response to a Pitchess Motion that she had developed during her early years with FID. Her team followed it and a few years ago it had been adopted as the method of choice within the NYPD as well – that was when she had been promoted to Captain.

She knew Andy's file better than she cared to admit. Little pieces of paper and then, in later years, post-its had been left between certain pages. Those were times she remembered, particular cases or occasions on which she had recognised her son in his father's actions. She had never left any notes - after all, these files were official police documents, but the little marks helped her remember. The quick high flying temper, the impatience, there had been days when she had seen that with Andy at work and with Ricky at home and had lain awake at night thinking about their similarities. Her fingers turned over page after page of drunken brawls, insults, training courses, warnings, a letter of apology, her own notes on a recently sober Andy Flynn. Pictures appeared in her mind: Andy with dark hair, her infant son, a black eyes from a fight, a scraped knee when Ricky learned to ride his bike, hair greying at the temples, a teenager with an unruly mob cut by his sister …

Her hand reached for her phone, her finger swiped over the screen and pulled up the familiar number. How she longed to hear his voice. But she couldn't talk to him now, not like this. She couldn't call him in the middle of the night to discuss their personal relationship while she was investigating him. Stupid rules, she thought and immediately stopped her self. The rules were there for a purpose. They were there to protect both Andy and her. Still, her heart longed to hear him, to continue their conversation. Her heart longed for peace and her body … well, her body longed for his arms.

For the next days she remained with the Major Crimes team, her mind never far from Andy. She was so deep in thought that the Chief's unexpected goodbye after her little sting operation left her waving back awkwardly. Oh dear! What on earth was going on with her? She had no reason to be so … off. None of them knew about her relationship with Andy and she doubted they would even believe her if she told them.

From a professional point of view they managed to wrap up everything rather quickly and cleanly, something she very much appreciated. But it wasn't all that simple: she had drawn her weapon for the first time in months and while she hadn't fired it, she had still experienced that corresponding surge of adrenaline. That, and the high of finally being able to close the investigation into Andy and clear him of all charges left her feeling a little lightheaded. Lack of sleep and an overdose of caffeine might have had something to do with it as well.

Her enthusiasm lasted well into the evening. How else would she explain her sudden offer of an olive branch to Chief Johnson? The father of her son and her … well … _Andy_ worked for her. It couldn't hurt to get to know the head of one of the LAPD's key divisions a little better, could it? Chief Johnson didn't hide her surprise and Sharon knew she would have reacted the same if it had been the other way around.

She felt content when she left the Chief's office, ready to focus on the last and most important point for tonight. She needed to see Andy. They could finally continue their conversation. She had tried to catch him earlier to inform him about the end of her investigation. Now Andy was surrounded by his teammates. Her heart beat quickly when she noticed how well that blue shirt suited him and how nicely it matched with her jacket. A coincidence of little importance for sure, but Sharon had always had a thing for couples in matching colours. She almost felt like that young girl again who had fallen in love with the dashing Andy Flynn. She almost floated out of the room until she caught Andy's dark, hateful glare and involuntarily shuddered. He had never looked at her like that before, not even at their very worst.


	18. Rejection

**Author's Note:** Three months and five chapters later I'm finally through with the Old Money story arc. Phew! I've had an eventful past few months, moved back to my home country, changed jobs. Hence the long wait for the new chapter. I am hopeful the next one won't be quite so long in coming.

Thank you for your reviews and for your patience with me and this little story!

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Rejection**

 **December 2010**

Sharon couldn't sleep. She had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours and whenever she started to drift off, she saw that last look on Andy's face. So much anger, such darkness. If only she could turn back time. She should have woken him and talked to him before leaving the hospital. She should have told him that she had to go to work. She wouldn't have been able to tell him anything about the defence request, but she could have at least told him how she felt and that she wasn't running away. She should have, she really should have. But should haves didn't help her now.

She got up and took Andy's letter from its hiding place. It felt comforting and familiar now. She looked at his writing and ran her fingers over the paper smiling at the care he had taken. The paper was strong, the old-fashioned kind writing paper you hardly ever saw these day, in a soft creamy colour. She doubted he would have had that at home. He must have gotten it just for the letter, chosen it with her in mind. She lifted the still folded paper to her face inhaling its scent and she imagined Andy's hands pushing it into the envelope, his hands holding it. How could it still smell like him after she had had it for so long? Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her, wishful thinking. For the first time since its reception a few weeks ago she took it away from her desk, through the apartment and into her bedroom, precious cargo now. She longed to read the words he had written to her, and said again just a few short nights ago. Maybe that would calm her head and heart enough to allow her to fall asleep she thought as she climbed back under the covers. Soon his words were blurring before her eyes, like they had so often before, but for entirely different reasons now. Try as she might, she just couldn't get that last look out of her mind.

She sat up suddenly. This was ridiculous. They were adults, the both of them, and after so many years they had finally cleared the air between them. She didn't want to admit to herself that Andy had been the one doing most of that while she had never given him a real response. Her hand grasped blindly for her mobile on her bedside table and before she could change her mind, she had dialled Andy's number. When she heard the call go through, she hung up. Oh, this was utterly ridiculous. She was no longer a teenager, but a woman closer to fifty than she'd liked. Surely she could call Andy and request a conversation? Her fingers moved over the display, hitting Andy's name once again. She held her breath as she let it ring.

"Flynn," his gruff voice greeted her.

"Andy …"

"That'll be _Lieutenant Flynn_ for you, Captain." She had never heard Andy emphasise his title in such a way. Just in case she had misunderstood he added a sharp, "This better be about work."

"Andy," she swallowed, "I want to talk to you."

"Piss off. You seriously think I want to talk to you? You betrayed me!"

"Andy, no!"

He hung up. He hung up on her, just like that, like she didn't mean anything, like he could just erase her from his life. Dumbfounded she stared at her phone. No. She would not let him get away with this. With a deep breath her thumb hit his name for the third time. He sent her straight to voicemail. She tried again, and again, but he didn't pick up.

Sharon was wide awake now and she was angry. So angry that she forgot everything about self-preservation and why she had been so careful with Andy in the past. She couldn't forget the way he had held her and the two nights she had spent with him were starting to blur together – the youthful innocence of the first and the emotional intensity of the second, his arms around her, his hands caressing her, his scent surrounding her, his voice taking her captive.

She threw back the covers and got dressed as quickly as if she had been called out to a case, taking more time only to fix her hair and makeup. She didn't ask herself why she knew where he lived. She would have said it was because she had needed to look it up when he was starting to meet with Ricky. That would have been only half the story – she had always known the address in his file. When she pulled up in front of his house she could see that the television was still on. Good.

His voice was loud even behind the closed door, telling her in no uncertain terms to leave. Only after she had threatened to keep banging her hand against his door until the neighbours would hear did he finally let her in. His appearance shocked her. He looked tired, his hair sticking up as though he had been running his hands through it all evening. He wouldn't look her in the eye and a part of her, the young and naïve part, wanted to reach out and put her hand on his arm or maybe he pull him close. He flinched before she could even touch him. "What the fuck could you possibly want?"

"I didn't like the way we left things at the office. The way you looked at me, Andy, it scared me," Sharon said reasonably, thinking straightforward would be the best way to approach him. She had obviously miscalculated. His head shot up and for a moment she wasn't sure if he was going to attack her, or kiss her. He did neither, but his entire body shook with barely suppressed rage.

"Well, Captain, I didn't like the way we left things at the hospital either, but you don't care about that, do you? You couldn't wait to get away from me, you couldn't wait to climb out of my bed and start investigating me."

"I was only following the rules," she offered struggling to keep her breathing even and the fear out of her voice.

"Yes, of course, you and your goddamn rules. Fuck, leave me alone!"

He took a step towards her and for a moment she thought he would physically throw her out of his house. She took all of her courage and faced him straight ahead. "No, I'm not going to leave you alone. Hell, Andy, what happened to a second chance? What happened to us?"

"Fuck second chances."

"You wrote me this wonderful letter. You told me you loved me, you wrote it down. You begged for my forgiveness. So your letter isn't even worth the paper it's written on? Andy, for nineteen years I've wondered, for nineteen years I've raised your son, for nineteen years I've been reminded of you every single day – and I gave you the time of day, I listened to you, I forgave you."

"The fuck you did."

"Excuse me?" She had reacted to his choice of words rather than to what he had said, and when she heard his next voice, an icy wave swept over her

"You never forgave me."

"But Andy…"

"Well, if you did, you sure as hell didn't bother to inform me."

"I'm sorry, Andy. I"

He interrupted her roughly before she could finish her apology. "Fuck off, Sharon. You're just a nasty cold-hearted bitch. Piss off!"

The words weren't new, she had heard them before, even from Andy. But they had a new quality today. Now they had the power to hurt her – and hurt they did. They felt like a knife slicing into her skin, twisting and sending waves of pain throughout her body. She could barely breathe. But she couldn't back down, not now, not when heart was already so invested in him. She had to get through to him. "No, Andy. I don't know what is wrong with you. You expect me to forgive you for..." she gestured between them looking for words that adequately conveyed how much she had forgiven him, "this … this whole situation. You expect me for forgive you for having been left alone without so much as word, for having raised your child without you – and you can't see beyond me having to do what duty commanded me?"

"Fuck duty."

For once, Sharon responded before thinking. "Jesus Christ, Flynn. Stop swearing."

"Of course, you're the only person in the world who would ask me to stop swearing while calling the name of the Lord in vain." Sarcasm dripped from his lips that were turned down into a scowl.

Reason. He had to listen to reason. "You know full well what I mean. Look at that file of yours. I took on your case, _personally_ , so I could make sure it was handled well. Andy, I was only following the rules and I was doing it to protect you. You! Can't you see that?"

"All I know is that I wasn't even worth a second look or a little message. You left me – and turned right around to investigate me."

"You … you, you're such a hypocrite, Andy. Can you seriously sit on a high horse now? Well, let's just say at least you knew where I was. At least you didn't have to look for me thinking God knows what had happened to me. At least you didn't have to wake up that one morning, nauseous and alone, knowing you were expecting a child whose father had disappeared. You didn't have to lie to your family and friends. So yes, of course, you're the wronged party here." Her voice became dangerously quiet. "Stay in your own little world, Andy, but don't you dare come to me again. If this is how you want it to go, fine. Just know that I am not prepared to be treated like this."

"Go suit yourself, bitch. Fuck off and never come back!" Andy's temper had long since boiled over and he couldn't stop the words from slipping off his tongue. He knew the moment they formed in his mind he would regret them. He knew he was in the wrong. Oh hell, he should kiss her and make her stop talking, but he knew she would slap him for that – and rightly so. His anger was hot, white, burning like molten lava, bubbling and ready to spill out. There was no more space inside his mind, his body, his heart, he was filled to the brim with liquid fury and unless he really wanted to explode, he had to let it out. "You heard me. Get the fuck out of my house! And don't you ever dare set foot on my property again!"

He never saw the tears, never saw the hesitation as she turned around, never saw how she hunched over and held herself, a strangled cry escaping her lips, because he was too busy looking for something to throw. The moment the door closed behind her, he threw the glass paperweight against it splintering it into a thousand shards. He never hear her shocked gasp, never saw her body shaking in fear, never noticed her car staying parked in his driveway for a good half hour until the trembling in hands had subsided.

When Sharon finally arrived home the trembling in her hands was back. She only just managed to shut off her engine, grab her purse and make it into the elevator. All the way up to her floor she kept praying that nobody else would get on. She didn't trust herself not to break apart. The corridor to her door seemed to go on forever as she dragged herself along clawing at the walls for stability. It took her several tries to get the key into the lock before she finally collapsed on the other side.

/

 _Pregnant. She was pregnant with the child of a man who had disappeared. Not her husband, who had been gone for a while now, but Andy, the handsome stranger she had spent one memorable night with. Groaning Sharon curled into a tight ball to fight the nausea, her hand on her abdomen pleading with this child who was already so much trouble only weeks into its existence. God, how could this have happened to her of all people? Pregnant and alone. With a two year old. How on earth could this be her life?_

Sharon opened her eyes to locate the source of the incessant beeping and found herself in an unfamiliar world. Out of the window she could see the sky. What had happened to her neighbour's house? And where had all the trees gone? The furniture? Emily! God, where was her daughter? Where was Emily? She couldn't panic now, she had to keep calm. There had to be a logical explanation for all this. She looked around again. Where on earth was she? A hotel room? No, this looked like somebody's home. Quite a fancy place, too, something she'd dreamed Jack and her might live in. She really liked the warm colours. But why was she lying on the floor in this strange place? She lifted her arm to check the time: her hands were old, the skin no longer smooth. She sat up with a start and fought the dizziness that came with the sudden movement. Good God. Her eyes took in the room that was gradually becoming more familiar. Her condo. Bile rose in her throat and she only just made it to the bathroom before throwing up. She knew she wasn't pregnant, but maybe getting dumped by Andy Flynn just made her nauseous. With a sigh she placed her forehead against the cold tiles and closed her eyes.


	19. Living Proof

**Chapter 18: Living Proof**

 **December 2010**

 _Maybe this child was particularly active, or maybe her body was more attuned to feeling this one, knew the signs. There were days when guilt threatened to overwhelm her, on others it was naked fear. But whenever she felt the soft fluttering deep within her, she couldn't help but look forward to the little one. She had always wanted to have a large family and she already loved this child with all her heart. She ran her hand over her still flat stomach trying to feel the movements from the outside. Emily's voice sounded merrily from her room and she had to smile. Her daughter was singing and pretending to be a ballerina at the same time. She briefly wondered what she had chosen as a costume today before she forced herself to open her eyes._

What she saw wasn't the small room she had once shared with Jack and she couldn't hear Emily anymore either. She knew she was in her bedroom in Los Feliz and the hand resting on her stomach wasn't shielding an unborn life. She turned onto her side and curled into a tight ball squeezing her eyes shut. She had a few hours still, maybe she could go back to sleep – and not dream. The dream was a little different each time. This had been a good one, a happy one. Oftentimes she woke up clutching her stomach, her body in the grip of intense nausea. She remembered the first months of her pregnancy with Ricky so clearly. The initial panic when she had found out about her condition, her ever more frantic search for Andy while trying to keep it on the down-low so people wouldn't start asking.

This time she didn't need to look for Andy. He was there in plain sight, making a mess of wrapping a present, scowling at her. She should have kept her distance. She had known Andy was trouble and she had made the mistake of trusting him – a mistake she swore she wouldn't repeat. She went to the bathroom and rinsed out her mouth to get rid of the lingering taste of vomit. The mouthwash was the same brand she had used back with Emily and Ricky. Her nausea was as real now as it had been back then.

Andy hadn't tried to contact her, not that she had expected him to. She kept going with only one goal in mind: to make it to Park City for the holidays with her parents and her children, to be surrounded by people she loved, to dive into the safety of her family and forget about Andy. The closer Christmas drew the more excited she became. She had had to force herself to put up her many decorations and only when she had smelled the mulled wine brewing on the stove in preparation for her traditional pre-Christmas brunch some of the joy of the Season had come back to her. Then Emily had called and told her she was going to join them in time for Christmas Day and her broken heart had beat happily. She might be unlucky in love and she certainly had a knack for choosing the worst of men, but they had given her two wonderful children – and for them she would forever be grateful. She had even splurged on new skiing gear. Gosh, she couldn't wait to be out on the slopes again in the fresh air, bright skies with the sun shining onto her face. She was looking forward to the exhilaration that came with the speed of a good downhill run, the wind on her face and the slopes under her skies. She had managed to survive once, and she could certainly do it again. Hell, she was a grown woman with great mental strength. She had weathered storms far worse than this.

Still, that didn't mean she was keen to work with the Major Crimes Team, much less spent an entire evening sitting next to Andy under the curious scrutiny of his team while her family was celebrating without her. Life wasn't fair – and then the conversation turned towards their families and Mrs Johnson, or Willie Rae as she'd been asked to call her, wouldn't stop asking about her children. She tried to focus on Emily, but Lieutenant Provenza kept asking her question after question about Ricky. She could tell Andy was as uncomfortable as she was and she couldn't shake the feeling that the old Lieutenant knew far more than he was letting on. God, she should have never told Andy Ricky was his. He would have taunted her for a while, but eventually he would have forgotten and moved on to a more interesting target.

Then, when she thought she had finally made it and only wanted to be home and curl up on her couch with a glass of wine, the man she had been trying to forget rounded the corner. He did have the good grace to be surprised and even to look a little awkward. He stopped briefly and she could see the resolve play out on his face as he straightened his tie and looked at her.

"Uh, Sharon."

His voice was unusually soft and, she was almost tempted to think, friendly.

"I want to apologize."

His candour surprised her, but not enough to stop her from raising an eyebrow. "You do?" she asked, not even trying to keep the disbelief out of her voice. She jabbed the elevator button praying the doors would open.

"Sharon, I was an idiot."

She jabbed the button again and started tapping her foot welcoming the hard sound the leather soles made against the linoleum floor. Tap. Tap.

"My temper." Tap. Tap.

"I treated you like shit." Tap. Tap.

"Yes," she said drawing out the word. "You should have remembered that before you told me to fuck off and called me a nasty cold-hearted bitch."

"How can I make this right?"

Her foot froze in mid-air. By God, she didn't want to feel that warm emotion, but the softness of his voice and the genuine expression in his eyes did something to her. All the hopes she had harboured during the night in the hospital when she had lain in his arms were starting to come alive again and she fought hard to push them back. She didn't want that glimmer of hope.

"Flynn, you idiot! Leave her alone, you're only gonna get frostbite!" A rather drunk looking Provenza punched Andy in the shoulder and tried to pull him away while the doors of the lift finally opened. Sharon stepped in as quickly as she could.

"Sharon, forgive me!"

The doors closed and she was alone. She only noticed now that her hands were shaking. Forgive Andy? She didn't know if she could forgive him, much less even wanted to try. They shared a son and they would have to find a way to interact, but Ricky was an adult, he could have his own relationship with his father. She had spent years facilitating her children's relationship with her husband, with little success. She only hoped that Ricky would not suddenly want to tell everyone that Andy was his father. Good grief. She really needed that glass of wine now.

 **January 1** **st** **, 2011**

She looked up at the majestic mountains she loved, the white snow glistening under a bright winter sky. The sun was warm on her face and she could already hear the sound the snow made under her skies as she raced down the slope. With a deep breath of the crisp mountain air she let exhilaration sweep through her body. She visualised the run before her, its bends and curves, her body moving in tune with her mind. It was a perfect day. Only a few skiers had been down the run before her. She loved early mornings and early morning in the mountains were her absolute favourite. She bent down to close the buckles on her boots, making sure her jacket was fully zipped and then …

Freedom. The pure freedom of speed and movement, the sound of her skies slicing through the snow and the wind in her ears. Her body was on autopilot, reacting to the textures and contours of the snow and she raced down the mountain.

Joy. Pure and unadulterated joy as she swept through the forest covering the lower part of the mountain, the trees majestic under their white blankets, her turns tight and regular like clockwork.

When she got back onto the lift to go up for her second run she was a little out of breath. Once inside the small cabin she pulled off her gloves and helmet, running her fingers through her hair. Normally there were more people out even this early in the morning. But the first day of a new year was always different. People slept in and nursed their hangovers. New Year's had always been her morning on the slopes while her parents watched her kids. They no longer needed watching now, but they did like to sleep in. She leaned back with a content sigh. She might have missed Christmas with her parents and her children, but she had arrived in time to still enjoy a week with them.

It was after her fifth or six run that the slopes were slowly starting to fill up with people and later still before she spotted Ricky and Emily on the terrace of their favourite lodge.

"Mom! Come and join us for a hot chocolate, you've got to be frozen by now!" Emily greeted her and Ricky moved his feet to make room for her to sit down. "Gosh, Mom, you look happy!"

And she felt it, too. 2011. A new year. A chance for a new beginning, a clean slate. Her resolution had been to let go of the negative and focus on all the good in her life: her wonderful children who had grown up into adults that made her proud, her job. Why focus on the hurt when there was so very much to be thankful for? She ruffled her son's hair and took her daughter's hand.

"Why shouldn't I be? It's the first day of a new year and I'm spending it with the people who mean most to me."

"Everyone?" Ricky's question seemed innocent enough. "And I'm not talking about Gramma Liz and Grandpa." Her parents traditionally didn't go up on the mountain on New Year's because they claimed everyone on the slopes was still half-drunk. Sharon wasn't sure where her son was going with his line of questioning, but the intent look on Emily's face told her to be cautious. The young woman asking for her order saved her for the moment and the conversation easily moved on to other topics. Emily complaining the company didn't permit her to ski, Ricky teasing her about the times when she had refused to ski because she had been scared to be injured. Thirteen year old Emily famously hadn't even wanted to come to Park City because she had wanted to keep practicing for an upcoming audition. The memory made Sharon smile.

"You're being awfully quiet, Mom, but you're radiating happiness," Emily stated with a meaningful look to her brother.

"Fresh mountain air and the promise of a day on the slopes – but that doesn't quite explain it, does it?" Ricky quipped back and leaned in to look directly at her. Sharon wrapped her hands around the mug of hot chocolate that had just arrived and lifted it to her lips. The taste reminded her of countless winters spent up here with her siblings, then Jack, then her own children – the same who were eyeing her with curiosity now.

"I'm happy we're spending the holidays together – and that your Grandpa is feeling better."

"Guess who already called me twice today to wish you a very happy year?" Ricky's voice was full of joy and a little triumphant as if he had some wonderful news to share.

"Your aunt?" Her sister who hadn't been able to join her because her oldest was due with her first child any day now.

"Nope. Better: Andy!"


	20. Temper

**Chapter 19: Temper**

 **February 2011**

Andy walked onto the plane with the last group of people – he had only just made it to the airport in time. He was shuffling towards his seat when he laid eyes on her. The setting sun caught her hair and brought out the red, making it look shiny and glossy. He had figured that she might be on the same plane. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting back against the seat. She looked like she was asleep with her mouth slightly open. It reminded him of the way she had looked sleeping in his arms only a few short months ago and a part of him desperately wanted to kiss her. He was about to move past her row when he had another look at his ticket stub. 34 B. That was the seat right next to her. His heart made an excited little jump and he thanked his lucky stars, or in that case, his son, because it was Ricky who had made the reservations for both of his parents.

That boy! He had invited them both to spend his birthday with him and had gotten them all tickets for the ballet. By some twist of fate Emily was dancing in San Francisco that same weekend – and then they would have the next day off together. He didn't feel like he deserved to be invited to their little family gathering, but his son had insisted. He had called Sharon who had told him that it was their son's birthday and his decision. "If Ricky wants to celebrate his birthday with his parents, that's his prerogative. We're adults, I'm expecting us to be civil." He lowered himself into his seat careful not to disturb her. While he was a little scared of her reaction he was mostly excited to be so close to her for the duration of the flight. Maybe they could talk a little, or maybe he could just look at her and loose himself in his dreams.

So much for having a free seat next to her. Her neighbour had arrived and by the feel of it, he was going to be someone who took up his space. Gosh, she hated airplanes. And then this guy had to be using Andy's aftershave. She sighed and turned her face towards the window. It was just as if Andy was there with her, his scent surrounding her enough to make her heart clench painfully. She had known that opening her heart even the tiniest little bit was a mistake and she had paid dearly for it in countless nights agonizing over what could have been.

She was lonely and if she was honest with herself, had been so since Ricky moved out. During the last years she had focussed on her children, Ricky in particularly who had gone though his own challenges. That temper she had spent so much time trying to understand when he was small had resurfaced again in his teenage years – with renewed intensity. Supporting her son, helping him address that uncontrolled fire had kept her busy, and had given her a purpose. Now he was grown, and independent, and doing well. So well. She was so proud of him. And she was alone. So alone.

She had good friends, close friends in whom she confided, but they didn't share her life the way her children had or the way a partner would. And rather than protect her heart and her sanity she had fallen back into old patterns and thrown herself into the arms of men she knew would only hurt her. Jack, who had so easily rekindled that once-there fondness, and Andy. Gosh, she had allowed herself to dream during those hours in the hospital and during the day that followed and those dreams … her heart hurt just remembering them.

She huffed, annoyed with herself. Now she was wide awake and feeling tearful while that stranger next to her smelled just like Andy. She had the sudden urge to lean into him, rest her head against his shoulder, pretend that life was different. The man was moving now, maybe in response to her annoyed sound. His elbow touched hers briefly over the shared armrest before he pulled it back. She squeezed her eyes together and willed herself to calm down, long steady breaths until …

"Do you have any cranberry juice?"

Of all people she could have sat next to! Of all people! And she was trapped. If only she had opted for an aisle seat, but she had wanted to sleep.

Ricky! He must have planned this, no matter how many times she had explained to him that there was nothing going on between Andy and her, that Andy had called _Ricky_ and not her to wish _him_ a Happy New year. She would never forget the hopeful look on Emily's face when she thought her mother had found someone special. At last.

Well, she had already made her peace with spending the weekend in Andy's presence. Who was she to turn down her son's request to celebrate his birthday with his parents? She had prepared herself for this weekend and really all that was happening was that it was starting a little earlier than planned. She took another calming breath. She could do this.

Sharon would have been fine. She could have kept up her pretence of sleep for the duration of the flight. Except that halfway through they found themselves rerouted only to land at some small local airport in the middle of nowhere. She opened her eyes when Andy's fidgeting became simply too much and turned her head – to look right into his brown eyes.

They greeted each other awkwardly and the expression on her face must have been darker than she thought because he apologised and immediately offered to change seats with someone else.

"Don't be ridiculous." Gosh, that had come out harsher than she meant. She was fairly sure that Andy had played no part in this little arrangement. They had her son, _their_ son, to blame for this. "So, no cranberry juice, uh?"

He relaxed visibly and shook his head, before raising a glass of what looked like tomato juice to her. "No pomegranate either."

Sharon fought the memories that resurfaced at the cheeky expression on his face. _Pomegranate and Soda. Brown eyes and soft lips. Hands that touched her with such tenderness. Arms that held her as though she was a precious treasure._

Emboldened by the wistful look on her face, Andy pushed on. "I know you're not exactly thrilled to be sitting next to me and I promise you, I won't bother you. But there is one thing I want to do before we get to San Francisco. There's something I want you to have."

Without waiting for her response Andy rooted around his carry-on until he produced an awkwardly wrapped present. "I wish I could take away those hurtful words I said to you. I was hurt, and angry and … and none of that is an excuse. But I am truly sorry, Sharon. This … this is for you. Not because I expect anything from you, but because I thought you might like it." He handed over the gift waiting for her to take it.

"You've already apologised. A present won't change anything."

It was a battle of wills, albeit a quiet one. His hand remained suspended in mid-air while she fixed her eyes on his face. Finally - and not without an expressive eyeroll - she took it and started ripping off the tattered paper. It reminded her of the year Ricky had refused Emily's help with the Christmas presents and had wrapped everything himself. Like father like son. Her face lit up when she revealed a picture frame holding a photograph of Ricky standing on the top of a mountain squinting into the sun, both hands raised in a gesture of victory.

"This is wonderful," she whispered while she ran a finger over the familiar features "I've never seen it before."

"I took it when I was up there a couple of weeks ago."

"Thank you," she said again and her voice was sincere. They fell quiet then, Sharon looking at the picture of Ricky, Andy looking at her.

/

"Bunch of incompetent idiots! What the hell do they think they're doing!" Andy had waited – and patiently so – for the better part of three hours. He had prided himself on keeping a lid on his temper, had called Ricky to let him know they'd be late, he had suffered through one stupid announcement after another, he had eaten the stale sandwich and drunk the warm soda, but there were limits and he had reached his long ago. "How hard can it be to get us some decent food?" He kickeed the ground in frustration.

"Andy." A hand settled on his forearm, fingers closing around his arm when he tried to pull away. "Andy, you are right. This situation is frustrating, but your behaviour isn't making it any better."

He let himself fall back into to seat and closed his eyes letting out a frustrated groan. She was right, but he was so annoyed and he felt like hitting a wall or at least shouting to get rid of some of the pent up frustration. Sharon was there, not saying a word, her grip on him loosening but not letting go. "Andy," she said again, her voice low and warm. He took a deep breath and shook his head. How did she do that?

"It's working again."

"What is?"

"You. I was so angry and then you talk to me and my anger just seems to evaporate."

She couldn't tell where he was going with this. Was this another attempt to get her forgiveness?

"I know it didn't seem like that the last times we met, but it's working again. Just being with you is making me feel calmer." He could see the confusion she was trying to hide. "Dammit, you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Let me try and explain what I mean when I say it's working again. Being with you is making me feel calm. I know it might not seem like it, but since I got sober I actually started seeking you out whenever I was angry because with you I felt calm. There was … there is something about your presence that makes me feel safe. Even if I was screaming, even if I wanted to bang my head against a wall, being with you calmed me. I took the longest time to admit that to myself, and I'd deny it if anyone ever asked me, but I didn't come to your office to fight. I came because it was the only place I felt understood, the only place where I didn't feel like my anger was eating me alive. When I found out that Ricky was our son for a while you just made me angry, but it's back: being with you makes me feel safe again."

He stopped his rambling confession concerned at how far it had gone. He had meant to tell her about this at some point, but maybe being stranded in a plane with no possibility for her to get away wasn't the best place to do this. Still, the words had just flown from his heart and once he had started, he hadn't been able to stop. She was squeezing his arm now and the touch made him look up tentatively: her face was open and friendly, he could see curiosity there and something else. Andy watched mesmerised by the feelings playing on her face. For once he felt that she wasn't censoring herself around him and the emotions were overwhelming. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this moment, but he committed it to memory.

"I know."

Two words spoken quietly. Two eyes holding him captive.

"I raised your son, Andy, and I saw first hand how his temper worked. You're not so different from him when you get angry. Ever since Ricky's been small I've held him when he struggled, I've dried his tears and helped him fix what he broke. I spent years attending counselling sessions to find out how best to support him, to help him find other outlets for his emotions." She shook her head reminded of the small boy with his father's eyes and his father's fiery temper who had pummelled her with his tiny fists when things didn't go the way he had planned them.

Andy's heart melted "You did all that for Ricky? You went to a therapist to help him deal with his temper?"

"I had to, Andy, if he hadn't found an outlet he would have become a very troubled child." Like his father, but she didn't need to add that.

"You fought for him."

"Of course I did, I am his mother!"

"And it worked. Gosh, Sharon, it really worked! I remember myself at that age, all the anger and all those feelings I didn't know how to deal with. Ricky isn't like that. He is stable in a way I never was, still ain't. I've got a horrible temper, like so many in my family. If you have it, it usually means you won't go anywhere. I have a cousin in prison, my youngest brother was in a gang. Nobody wants to become a software engineer. Nobody has grades like Ricky. Sharon, I am so grateful that _you_ are Ricky's mom. Everything he is, everything he has achieved, that is all because of you."


	21. To Serve With Love

**Chapter 20: To Serve With Love**

 **July 2011**

Her interactions with Andy over the next months were cautious and - she had admit - in no small part engineered by their son who insisted on spending time with both of his parents together. She couldn't blame him. For the first time in his life he had a father who actually cared. For all the wrong Andy had done her she couldn't find fault with the way he interacted with Ricky. He made time for him: he flew up to San Francisco at least once a month, maybe more often. When her path crossed with the Major Crimes Division she would hear the occasional tease about Andy's new girlfriend up North. She was pretty sure there wasn't a new girlfriend, but a new son. The way Andy's eyes lit up when his teammates mentioned it made it easy to believe that he had found someone special. She could tell how much joy spending time with Ricky brought him, but not only him. Ricky, too, was blossoming under Andy's attention. Whenever she saw them together she marvelled at their easy interactions, their friendship that had developed in little more than a year.

There were moments when she doubted herself and questioned her original decision not to tell Andy. Ricky would have deserved to get to know his father earlier, to grow up with him. Had she been selfish? But then she reminded herself of the younger Andy Flynn who had drunk heavily for the first years of Ricky's life. He was different today, marked by the experience of his own children, his _other_ children from whom he was estranged. He had told her once that the invitation to have Christmas Dinner with his ex-wife and the kids was the closest he had been to spending Christmas with them in years. Her heart had ached for him and for the children she didn't know. A girl and a boy, like hers. The girl was called Nicole and like Emily, she was the older of the two siblings. The boy's name she didn't remember or maybe Andy had never told her.

It was strange: she was seeing her son more now than when he had first moved out, because he kept insisting on seeing her and Andy together. After his birthday they only managed one more of those joint visits to San Francisco, but when Ricky came to LA he asked for them to do things together, too. She observed him during their outings, more public when in San Francisco where they wouldn't be recognised. For all intents and purposes they were a family and Ricky basked in the glow of that family life. She saw the smile on his face when someone referred to his parents or commented on how much he looked like his father. He insisted they took pictures of the three of them together – and who was she to say no?

Without fail after each of these outings Andy gave her a picture of Ricky and herself. He was in never in any of these pictures. They always came with a note of thanks for the son she had raised, for letting him be part of his life. It was sweet and kind and for the first time in years, she had more photos of camera-shy Ricky than of Emily. But there was also that one picture Andy had taken in the theatre on Ricky's birthday. Emily was still in costume. Having just finished the show she had come into the auditorium to greet her mother and brother. Andy had captured the moment perfectly: the proud expression on her own face as she looked at her kids, her arms around their shoulders, both of them looking at her with beaming smiles. She could see the beads of sweat on Emily's forehead and the little cut where Ricky had cut himself shaving - his concession to the occasion.

She loved all the pictures Andy gave her and displayed them prominently in her condo. His little notes however she kept hidden away in her desk where she tied them together with the pale pink ribbon she used to sew onto Emily's pointe shoes. Each time she added a new one her gaze fell onto the letter and her heart made a little jump. She hadn't allowed herself to read it again, but she couldn't throw it away either. Still, she was careful, mindful of her heart and her mind.

Midsummer came and she recognised the date in the calendar like she had every year since. But this year something was different. This year she received a postcard from Emily with the picture of a 1920s dancer saying 'Bad girls have all the fun' and another one from Ricky that made her blush. If only she had never told them about the party!

/

"Is this seat taken?" The gruff voice pulled her out of her reverie. Another plane ride to see her son and, true to form, he had made sure his parents had 'the best seats' which so happened to be next to each other. She smiled, surprised at how easily it came to her. And then it hit her. Andy Flynn had become a fixture in her life.

"Look at you, you made it, and almost on time. I was convinced they were going to keep you in LA," she said lightly.

"I called in some favours with the team."

Remembering the rumours that had floated up to IA this week she could only shake her head, "After that last stunt, I am surprised you still have favours left to call in." His cheeks turned red. Seeing him blush gave her a certain satisfaction. "I shouldn't tell you this, but I do admire the ease with which you get yourself into these situations."

Andy only shrugged. "In all fairness, it was Provenza's idea."

"That's what Ricky kept telling me when he got into trouble with his friends."

"I tried to stop him! I just went along to make sure nothing bad happened."

She shook head in amusement. "We're law enforcement and we're doing it so that makes it legal," she said mimicking his voice. " _That's_ your idea of stopping Lieutenant Provenza?"

"Damn, you really do know everything. Who on earth told you that? I didn't even take the money!"

"You only didn't take the money because you didn't want to see me," she giggled and immediately wished she hadn't. She didn't want to flirt with him. But Andy had picked up on the light mood and leaned in so his face was mere inches away from hers. Her heart skipped a beat at the intensity of the burning in his eyes. Without a second thought she put a hand on his forearm. "You are avoiding me, Andy!"

"Avoiding you?" his eyes opened wide and he came even closer to her. "Never. But I'd much rather have Ricky lecture me on some technological development I don't understand than you reading me the riot act."

"Gosh, he does that with you, too?" She couldn't help it, laughter bubbled out of her even as she covered her mouth with her hand to stop it. "When he was five, he took apart the radio in my service vehicle. He spent half the night pleading to let him put it back together and when I finally craved, he'd fixed a problem I'd been having forever."

"Darn, Sharon," he pushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch making her skin tingle, "how wish I'd been there with you."

/

His entire being was brimming with anger. His face was red and his neck seemed to be bursting out of the confines of his shirt. She was relieved when he loosened the tie a little and undid the top few buttons. Soon, his cuffs followed and he rolled up his sleeves, his hands running through his hair. Perspiration was collecting on his forehead, his jaw clenching, his eyes alight with fury. This was the moment just before he exploded – normally, anyway.

But she could also see his conscious attempts at calming himself. The deep breaths, the way he looked at her. She clearly wasn't the reason for his anger, although he detested the whole situation. It felt as though he was using her presence to calm himself. She remembered their joint plane ride to San Francisco. They hadn't had a reason to clash professionally since and now she seemed to be witnessing what he had told her about then. He was angry and ranting about the dirtback lawyer, and dirtbag murderer and dirtbag gang members, but not a single word against FID or her. Instead, that strange self control. It was as tough he was using her as an anchor in the storm – and she could feel the weight of that responsibility.

The way this interview was going surprised her. She had prepared herself for the worst, an explosion, shouting, abusive language, a chair toppled over, a door smashed. He sat across from her in the Conference Centre, her concession to him because she thought he would feel more at home and less like a suspect there than in her office. She had hoped that would keep things from turning bad. It almost looked as though she needn't have worried. He was very angry, there was no doubt about that, but his answers, though short and clipped, were to the point and never overly crass. Well, at least compared to how she had experienced him before.

A part of her was grateful that he hadn't been in the car with the chief when they had dropped off Tyrell Baylor. She was almost afraid to hear what he would have had to say. As things stood, he could give her the rundown of the case, the anger of the team when Chief Pope granted the dirtbag immunity as a witness, some of the aftermath. None of them had obviously been too concerned about the gang member's safety and it was becoming ever more clear to her that Chief Johnson had dropped him at his home with a fairly clear idea of what was going to happen to him. She had known that she would not be able to use his confession and had turned him over to mob justice. Johnson didn't like second places. And now, even though she had 'won' the first round against Tyrell Baylor, she stood to loose a lot more than the possibility to convict a murderer.

Sharon sighed and took in the man across from her. He was doing the breathing thing again, but he was doing it all wrong, she noticed. Rapid shallow breaths into his chest rather than the deep calming breaths he would need right now. His eyes were fixed on her in an almost eerie manner. She went back to her notes, flicking through the pages. Andy had answered all her questions, she had the information she needed now. With a small sigh she pushed the papers back into the folder, making sure to align the edges before closing it.

"Lieutenant Flynn, is there anything else you would like to add?"

He only shook his head and she indicated the recording device with her chin. "No, Captain, I've said everything."

She nodded and spoke her closing remarks, adding date and time before stopping the recording. She could hear him draw a deep breath and could almost physically feel how much he had needed that. She took the small tape out of the recorder, labelled it and added it to her folder before she meticulously stored both in the filing cabinet and locked it, her day finally over. She had intentionally scheduled Andy's interview as the last point of her – and his – day so that if things escalated there wouldn't be too many witnesses and they would both have the night to cool down. She was, she had to admit, very pleasantly surprised that he had only raised his voice once or twice and had reigned himself in right away. He hadn't uttered a single abusive word against her. She had steeled herself for the storm that she knew Andy Flynn could be and now … she was almost left wanting. They fought, it's what they did and what kept her heart safe. But they hadn't fought since that awful time after he got stabbed. How odd – and why was she noticing that only now? She chose not to dwell on it, particularly because she was starting to feel watched. Turning back to him she saw that his eyes were indeed following her every move.

She looked directly at him and nodded, "This officially concludes my interview, Lieutenant Flynn. Thank you for your time. You are free to leave now."

Her dismissal brought an unexpected smile to his lips and caught her off guard. It was a genuine smile, too, none of the sneers he had so often directed at her after their interactions. He made no move to get up – and neither did she. His presence wasn't challenging her, it wasn't threatening her. He was there and he looked at her with warm eyes and an open smile – and she looked back. The difference to a few minutes ago was striking. But what was he doing? What were they doing?

"Is there something you still wanted to talk about, Lieutenant?" she inquired carefully.

"No, Captain. As I stated earlier, I have given a complete statement of the events surrounding the murder of Tyrell Baylor."

Wordlessly, she raised an eyebrow – and got another smile. She nodded towards the door – he kept smiling.


	22. Forgiveness

**Chapter 21: Forgiveness**

 **November 2011**

Andy asked her out for a cup of coffee after his interview and she found herself agreeing, the butterflies in her stomach reawakened when he pulled back the chair for her and she caught a whiff of him. She couldn't believe that after all these years he was still using the same aftershave; or maybe that intoxicating scent was just him. They went to a small café at the beach far off the beaten track and spent the evening first cautiously talking, and then laughing like they had 20 years ago. Somehow, and she couldn't quite say how it happened, their after work coffees turned into a regular thing. Where previously they had only met because Ricky had requested them to they were now going out by themselves. Andy Flynn had not only become a fixture in her life, it seemed almost as though he was becoming a friend.

Conversation flowed as easily as it had that midsummer night and their son provided plenty of reasons to talk about. They talked about his recent break-up with his somewhat older girlfriend – the one Sharon had never liked and Andy had found terribly attractive but completely inappropriate for his son. They shared their joy, but found ways to support Ricky through his heartbreak. Parenting a child together was a new experience for both of them. Andy hadn't been a parent to his children since their early years and Sharon had raised her children by herself. She enjoyed being able to lean on Andy and soon, Emily became a topic of their conversations, too.

Their coffee dates moved to weekends and days off, an hour stretched into two, stretched into three and into a day. Time flew when they talked. He took her to Dodger Stadium and she teased him about skybox tickets, not so secretly enjoying the way his ears turned red and he started fidgeting. Andy couldn't believe just how many details she was aware of and he couldn't help but wonder whether she knew that much about all the troublemakers or just him. She leaned forward then and lifted her sunglasses to look directly into his eyes until he had to turn away. It was as though she was looking right into his soul. It scared him as much as it excited him

"Don't worry, Andy. As head of IA it's my job to know about all these little things, and to know when to intervene."

If he felt strangely let down by her explanation he didn't let it show.

One day they were walking along the beach late in the evening when they saw a heavily pregnant woman approaching the shoreline. She stood there for a long time and from the way she kept wiping her face it was obvious that she was crying. She seemed young, her hair was long and even though he couldn't make out the colour in the setting sun, everything about her reminded Andy of the woman next to him.

"What was it like?" he asked continuing his train of thought out loud, "You know, when you were pregnant with Ricky?"

Almost immediately Sharon found herself transported back in time. She had spent many an evening out on her terrace, tears running down her face, her mind full of numbers, and mortgage payments and maternity benefits and her lawyer's recommendations. Her heart full of love for this child growing in her womb and full of anger and worry for its father who had disappeared.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

She couldn't tell him. She had no words to describe the multitude of emotions, the abject despair and pure joy, the hormone-induced mood swings, the moments of elation and fear so strong it paralysed her. She couldn't tell him that ever since they had reconnected she kept dreaming of her pregnancy with Ricky, that she still had more nightmares than joyful recollections. She wanted to tell him something though. Andy was not only the father of her son; he had become a real friend, someone she confided in. She spent more time with him than with Gavin and that was saying something. She could see Andy next to her, the tension obvious in the slope of his shoulders, but his face gentle. However much he wanted to know, he would not push her.

"Would you like to see some pictures?" Gosh, where had that come from? Showing him pictures would be as intimate if not more so than telling him about her feelings back then.

Andy's face was a study in joy, "Yeah, I'd love that!"

They had never gone back to her place or his after their outings. He had picked her up a couple of times, but they had always met in public places. They had never been alone. They pulled themselves away from the image of the young woman weeping quietly in the wind and walked back to Andy's car. He opened her door for her, a soft smile on his face and turned them towards her condo.

Andy settled at her dining table and when she had made them tea, clearly a stalling tactic, she wordlessly took out the albums starting with a picture of Ricky's ultrasound. It was grainy and out of focus and to this day she still couldn't tell which part was her son, but back then it had been irrevocable proof that the night with Andy had left her with a new life to raise. She didn't speak as she went through the pages and was grateful that he seemed to understand her need for silence.

The memories were strong and vivid. One look at the pictures and he was transported back to that night, to their night. His imagination had done him a disservice; she had been even more breathtakingly beautiful than he remembered. As she turned over page after page, her stomach grew from a barely noticeable curve to a big round belly she protected with her hands. Her face became fuller than he remembered, but there was a haunted look in her eyes. God, she had been so young, and he could see the fear and the apprehension in her expression. Leaving her had been the biggest mistake of his life and seeing these pictures he felt like he was drowning. He had left her alone when she had needed him most. She looked small and alone in many of those pictures. There were friends, there were her parents, there were pictures of little Emily curiously eyeing her mother's belly, then putting her hands on it, a surprised look when the baby must have kicked captured for eternity.

He should have been there! It would have been his duty to be by her side. Instead, he had let her struggle through the pregnancy alone, he had let her raise his son alone while throwing insult after insult at her. He had wronged her. His throat constricted until he could barely breathe. He fought, but his breathing became fast and erratic and no matter how hard he tried, his head kept spinning and he felt like he was suffocating. He needed air!

"Andy!"

Her voice was strong. Her voice. She would save him. He gasped for air desperate for the black spots in front of his eyes disappear. Her hands. He could feel her hands on his face.

"Breathe!" she ordered him and he gasped again. "Breathe with me, Andy."

Following her example he took a deep breath and then another one. The black receded, her hands warm on his face, her breathing regular and comforting. Calm.

Minutes later when he felt like he could finally stand up without keeling over he pushed his chair back from the table and walked away from her. He might be breathing again, but the guilt was still sitting heavily on his heart threatening to crush him. She had not been scared when they had first met. She had been strong and radiant. He had caused that scared and apprehensive look she had on so many of the pictures. His heart clenched painfully when he remembered her helpless sobs almost a year ago in the hospital.

" _I've been dreaming of that moment for years - and I've always told myself it was just a figment of my imagination! You said that you loved me and that one day you'd tell me just how soon you knew, didn't you?"_

"I should have been there with you. I'm so sorry, Sharon."

" _I would have fought for you, Andy! I would have fought and you never even gave me the chance!"_

Seeing him like this was frightening. She had seen him angry and furious, ready to explode and she had witnessed her fair share of these explosions. She had seen him struggling to explain why he had disappeared after their night together and she had seen him apologetic. But she had never seen him like this and it scared her more than she cared to admit. Maybe she shouldn't have shown him the pictures. Maybe she should have just said something generic about her pregnancy with Ricky. Maybe, maybe, maybe! It was no use dealing in maybes. She fixed her eyes on the man standing hunched over in the middle of her living room now. He didn't lift his face, but she still heard his words.

"Disappearing like that … that was the biggest mistake I ever made. I should have stayed with you, I should have explained. God, Sharon, I can't even say how sorry I am for everything I did to you. I left you alone. I should have been there with you!"

"You should have." She wouldn't lie. He should have been there, he should not have left her to raise their child alone, he shouldn't have disappeared. But he had and nothing could change that now. "You should have, Andy, but you didn't. You left me alone. There is absolutely nothing you can do about that now. You can't change the past."

He shook his head almost violently. "I am so sorry."

She knew he was sorry. He had told her many times, and in many variations. She had forgiven him for his rash youthful decision to go into rehab without telling her. He had meant well and she understood that. Gosh, if it had worked out she would have been thrilled! She had been so madly in love with him then, the handsome stranger who felt like a long lost friend, who had understood her like her husband never could. But that handsome stranger had also left her with a child and a gaping hole in her heart.

"Sharon," he pleaded, "please forgive me."

Her stomach lurched. She had never really told him. That's what he had thrown at her during their fight at his home.

" _Well, if you did forgive me, you sure as hell didn't bother to inform me!"_

No, she could not think about that fight now.

 _"Fuck off, Sharon. You're just a nasty cold-hearted bitch. Piss off!"_

She just couldn't.

"Forgive me, Sharon."

He needed to know she had forgiven him – and she needed it, too. Maybe then her dreams would stop. She swallowed the lump in her throat, but it got stuck halfway.

"Andy," she croaked and swallowed again, "I forgive you."


	23. Road Block

**Author's Note:** Today marks the one year anniversary of this story and to celebrate that momentous occasion, I have a new chapter for you. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 22: Road Block**

 **December 2011**

She told him that she had forgiven him and then she wrapped her arms around him and for a moment Andy thought that he was going to die, or faint or a combination of the two. Instead, he turned his face into her neck and almost greedily inhaled as much of her scent as he could.

Thinking back to that moment later it seemed almost like a dream. Andy didn't know how long she held him, didn't know when he put his arms around her waist, didn't know when he pulled her close. They stood in silence until his breathing had returned to normal. They bid goodbye without mentioning their hug, without further touching, nothing but a faint smile on both their lips.

He could kick himself. She had reached out to him, had taken him home, had shown him those pictures, had comforted him and he still hadn't managed to say what he felt. He hadn't said anything. At some point, they had let go of each other and he had stammered and felt himself blush and beat a hasty retreat.

He kept dreaming about that moment when he let go of her. About to form the words in his mind he always woke up before he could say anything. Then there were the dreams of pregnant Sharon inspired by the pictures she had shown him, dreams in which he dispatched at least one of the many letters he had written her in rehab and the months following his failure. When younger Andy had written plenty of letters. Even if had hardly ever mailed any, they had helped him collect his thoughts. He still kept every single letter he had written to Sharon in the attic of his home.

When he closed his eyes he could still feel the contours of Sharon's body against his, the softness of her breasts, her hair tickling him, the soft pressure of her arms. Maybe he had always been a little in love with her. The past months had only made him more sure: he wanted that second chance he had written about in his letter. He wanted to spend time with her, get to know her. He wanted to hold her and feel her arms around him. He wanted to talk to her about Ricky and Emily and his kids, too. He wanted her. It wasn't only the Sharon of the past he was still in love with, he had fallen for the Captain Raydor of today, the mother of his grown son, the woman who could wield a beanbag gun in heels and outsmart that dirtbag Goldmann without the guy even noticing.

Back in the summer when Sharon had shot the creep with the beanbag gun Andy had taken his little red souvenir home to keep it save from his colleagues. Months later Ricky spotted it on his couch table where he had placed it next to a photograph of the three of them. The boy laughed out loud.

"Seriously, Dad? You put the beanbag right next to her picture? Man, it's like you're building an altar. You love her. It's so obvious. Why don't you just grow some balls and ask her out?"

Andy was only grateful that the beanbag wasn't still on his bedside table. He couldn't tell his son that he had been staring at it before falling asleep every night, touching the soft material and thinking … thoughts about his mother in her black power suit and stilettos.

"Seriously, Dad, I've been trying really hard to set you two up, but there are some things _you_ need to say to her, not me!"

But before Andy could work up the nerve to talk to Sharon, a young woman, a girl really, was run over and died in front of his eyes. He couldn't get Gracie out of his mind. He couldn't contain his anger. He felt like strangling the police commissioner's wife, squeezing a confession out of her. But the worst was the guilt. It could have only too easily happened to him when he had been still drinking.

It was a powerful and toxic combination and one that sent him into a downward spiral. He kept it together at the station where it was okay to show his anger and disdain. They all understood. They also understood what it meant not to be able to save someone. They had all been there at some point. It was when he was home alone that the darkness descended. He thought of Sharon and Ricky, of Nicole and her brother and how much his drinking had cost him. He attended meetings and talked to his sponsor, but one night he still punched his fist through the drywall at home. He was so angry at loosing control that he had ripped out half the wall with his bare hands before coming to. He slid to the ground and looked at the destruction he had wrecked. He couldn't stay here. He needed to be with someone … he needed to be with her.

Sharon had heard about Gracie and she had watched Andy carefully over the past few days. She could tell that he was taking it hard and she wondered if he would come to her. He hadn't been in her office in a professional capacity and that was a good sign. But she had expected him to call her as his friend. Because they were friends, weren't they? Ever since telling him that she had forgiven him they had grown even closer. Surely they were the kind of friends who sought each other out in situations like this? She hadn't called and neither had he until he showed up on her doorstep near midnight with a large bruise on his forehead. Her heart dropped. His hands were bruised and bleeding, he was covered in dust.

"Oh my God, Andy, what happened? Did you get into a fight?"

Andy's smile didn't reach his eyes and he gritted his teeth, "Only with my wall."

She pulled him into the apartment and made him sit down on the couch tending to his wounds. His body was still shaking and he looked broken and contrite. When she was sure he wasn't more seriously injured she sat down next to him and folded her arms across her chest, "So, you got into a fight with your wall."

"This isn't funny."

"I didn't think it was. But it wasn't your wall that was the problem, was it?"

Andy shook his head and looked down at his bandaged hands. "I didn't know what else to do. I had to do something, just something. I had to get it out and … this just happened."

Sharon leaned in a little more so she could get a closer look at his forehead. "This looks like you banged your head against the wall."

"Wanted to get rid of the thoughts, the pictures. I don't need a drink, Sharon, I really don't, but … with everything that happened with Gracie. Damn it! Why am I like this? Why am I so angry?"

Andy's temper was intense and it could be frightening. She had witnessed it plenty of times in both him and Ricky. But it was when they turned against themselves that she was truly scared. She knew she had to be careful how to approach this, but he was here, he had sought her out.

"Andy," she said his using her calmest voice, "maybe there is a way that your temper doesn't control you."

Instead of tensing further and retreating from her like she had feared, he gave her a sad smile.. "There is one way and that is being with you, Sharon. Being with you calms me."

"I think that's because I've learned how to address your famous temper with our son. I know how to address you when you're upset. Well, unless you're attacking me for hiding your son from you."

They both chuckled mirthlessly. It wasn't really the occasion to joke, but she did want him to understand that it wasn't by chance that he felt calmer with her.

Andy leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes. "That therapist you went to when Ricky was younger … she was the one who helped, right?"

"Very much so."

"Do you think she could help me, too? I know I'm old, but I could always try …"

Sharon's heart melted at the sight of him. He taken the lifeline she was offering to him and he had grabbed onto it with both hands. "Andy, I think that is a great idea!"

"Yeah? You sure?"

Why did he sound so incredulous when this was what she had been hoping he'd do for so long?

"Of course!" she said with all the conviction she could muster and her voice almost cracked under the strain. She had to swallow before she could continue. "God, you don't know how many times I thought I couldn't help Ricky. To seem him suffer when his emotions overwhelmed him, to hold him when he was crying. The therapist was a godsend. It's hard for a mother to see her son like that. I thought of your mother so many times, wished I could talk to her and ask her how she handled you when you were small and upset."

His face fell and he shook his head. "For Ricky's sake I'm glad you didn't talk to her, Sharon. She didn't _handle_ anything. At least as long as I stayed out of her hair, if not she beat me."

Instinctively, Sharon let her hand trail down his arm and took hold of his hand, squeezing it softly so as not to hurt him further. "But that only made it worse, didn't it?"

Andy held onto her hand and squeezed back hard not caring about his injuries. Images of his mother shouting at him came flooding back, the angry, helpless look in her eyes when she reached for the rolling pin, the searing pain of that first hit, the sound. He had never allowed himself to cry, not when his mother was still in the room. He shook his head trying to get rid of the memory, but that didn't work. At home, he would have been tempted to pull at his hair or hit something, but here it was Sharon's hand in his that led him back to the present, the intense look in her green eyes urging him on, the kind expression on her face encouraging him. He sighed and leant a little to the side so their bodies touched. She leant into him in response, strong and reliable.

He couldn't have said for how long they sat there. He didn't notice the tears until he felt her gentle touch against his cheek. Why was he crying? He needed to stop crying and behave like the grown-up man that he was! But Sharon didn't seem to mind and he couldn't stop it anyway, the tears kept on flowing as quickly as her hand could wipe them away. Soon his shoulders were shaking and he was sobbing loudly. Her hand never left his face, caressing him and catching his tears before they could drop to the ground.

"Andy," she whispered, "Andy, I've seen how debilitating your anger can be, but you're doing better."

"Look at me! Look at what I did to myself. Don't you remember how many suspects I roughed up? If I hadn't had you these past years … who knows what I would have done. And look at what I did to you, to us! Don't you remember how I behaved last year?"

"I'm not making excuses for any of that, Andy, but you are not alone. I am here, and I will continue to be here."

Andy sobbed again and she pulled his head down to rest against her shoulder, her hand gently stroking his cheek. The gesture was intimate, but not in a way that made her uncomfortable. In moments like this she was reminded of the Andy she once knew, of those precious hours they had spent together.

"I'm so glad Ricky has you as his mum, Sharon," he whispered into her hair.

"And I am glad you are his dad."

He stiffened and lifted his head to look at her. "You can't mean that."

"I do, Andy. You've gained Ricky's trust and you're making time for him. You're his father, but you're also his friend."

"It's only because you gave me chance when I didn't deserve one."

"You took that chance, and you build a relationship with our son. I introduced you, but you did all the rest. That is all you, Andy." She watched him as the words sunk in. She could see how the corners of his mouth lifted and his eyes crinkled. His whole face seemed to be alight with joy. "I know you can be a good father, and your older children will see that, too. Give them time."

His shoulders slumped again and his eyes dropped to the ground. "They're still angry about the missed Christmas. Nicole sometimes picks up the phone when I call her, but Jona just let's me go to voicemail, never calls back."

She pulled him back against her shoulder, shuddering a little at the pleasant feeling of his breath against her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and started rocking him, her face buried in his hair.

"Don't give up, Andy. I'm seeing the kind of father you are for Ricky. You've got a lot of ground to cover with your older kids, but you can make it. Just don't you give up. You hear me? Don't give up."


	24. Life Skills

**Chapter 23: Life Skills**

 **March 2012**

 _The baby was kicking her again and she shifted trying to find a more comfortable position in bed. She wanted to turn onto her other side when her body collided with something warm and solid, something that mumbled and helped her turn over. "How's my favourite mommy?" a voice whispered near her ear and she burrowed closer into the warmth and familiar smell. Strong arms were holding her tight, lips kissing her forehead, a hand gently stroking her stomach. "Is he keeping you awake?" She hummed in agreement. "Tell him to stop." Miraculously, the baby stopped kicking after a few minutes. As she was drifting back to sleep she remembered what she had wanted to say. "I'm so glad you're back, Andy. I thought you would never come back."_

Sharon woke up the next morning with her arms wrapped around her pillow and a happy feeling in her heart. Andy had indeed come back. Two decades late and he wasn't sharing her bed, but he was definitely back in her life. For a while she had thought that they might rekindle their old feelings. After all, Andy had written her that wonderful letter. So much had happened since then, the stabbing, a sort of reconciliation, their fight and then … this. Friendship. But nothing more. Maybe upon getting to know her better he had changed his mind. With a disappointed sigh she disentangled her arms from the pillow and padded into the bathroom giving herself a cursory once over in the mirror. No matter how vivid her dreams, she definitely wasn't pregnant. She thought back fondly to those days when she had first felt Ricky kick. For a while the joy about the new life had outweighed all the worries, and she had taken Emily to see a children's ballet even if she couldn't really afford the tickets. Gosh, how long ago had that been! It felt like an different life.

During the entire day Andy was never far from her mind. It was a quiet day with little more than backed-up paperwork of which there never was too much in IA anyway because she insisted everything be done in time. At lunch she found her finger hovering over Andy's name on her phone before she resolutely put it back down. They were just friends and they would fly to San Francisco in the evening. She had absolutely no reason to ask him out to lunch. Whatever her entanglement or non-entanglement with Andy, the weekend was shaping up to be interesting. Ricky had called ahead to let them know they were going to meet someone special. That boy! He fell in and out of love so quickly. Oh, the innocence of youth.

Ever since she had shown Andy the pictures of her pregnancy with Ricky they had become even closer. She would say without a moment's hesitation now that Andy was her friend; and they were doing well at co-parenting too. She was surprised how well it was going. Sharing responsibility for Ricky and far more importantly having a sounding board, having someone with whom she could talk about her son made all the difference. To think that they could have had this years ago, that they could have been friends earlier. So many wasted years, so much time wasted fighting!

She couldn't help but wave and flash a wide smile when she spotted him sauntering up the aisle as the very last passenger to board the plane. "Why are you always late?"

"Because I love to see the ire in your eyes when you finally see me!"

"Your loss. _I_ am going to meet our son's new girlfriend – _you_ are welcome to stay in LA and chase murderers."

He fell into the seat beside her and dropped a sloppy kiss on her cheek. "Happy to see you too, Sharon. You're combative today, did Traffic do something stupid?"

She laughed and snorted before she could cover her mouth with her hand. The past few months had really been good for them. Andy had started seeing a therapist and had recently met his daughter. While his son had bailed out at the last moment, the time spent with Nicole was a huge step in his quest to reconcile with his family. She was so proud of him and only wished Emily's father would at least make an effort.

"So, queen of the snort-laugh, what has you thinking so hard?" His eyes were sparkling. Was he flirting with her? She never knew these days. Well, it couldn't hurt to be a little more forward. "What can I say – the men in my life!"

Andy took his toothpick out of his mouth. "The men? Anyone new I should know about?"

"Jealous?"

"Nah, between all the guys at work and making sure I behave, you don't have time for anything else."

She rolled her eyes and leaned a little more into him than strictly necessary, "You're right, keeping track of you in particular is exhausting!" His lips touched her hair. It was only a fleeting touch, but it sent sparks through her. She hovered in the same space expectantly, but nothing else happened. When the stewardess began with the safety on board procedures, she was grateful for the excuse to fasten her seatbelt and pull away from him with her dignity intact.

It didn't surprise her that Andy fell asleep the moment the plane was in the air. The Major Crimes Team had worked back to back cases this past week and they hadn't seen each other in a fortnight. He had to be tired, but she was a little disappointed because she had really looked forward to catching up. Instead she settled for looking at him. She took the time to study his features imagining what it would be like to rest her head on his shoulder and just drift off, his arms snug around her. She looked at his lips that looked so inviting. She was tempted to lean in and … good grief! She should be grateful for the friendship they had cultivated. Andy didn't seem to want any more than that. She had to be careful. Friend or not, she was only too painfully aware of how easily he could hurt her.

Ricky was late picking them up. He had insisted they not take a taxi claiming he and Marwin were already on their way.

"You and I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time at airports these days," Sharon quipped and linked her arm through Andy's. "Come on, if I know our son, he's going to take his time. Let's walk over to the café where we waited last time!" A sleepy Andy let her drag him along and gratefully accepted the warm beverage she pressed into his hand. "I have a feeling Ricky has plans for tonight. Gosh, aren't you excited to meet the girl? I hope we'll like her better than the last one. I wonder why he is coming with Marwin though? It sounded like he was talking about a girlfriend, didn't it?" What was happening to her? Why was she suddenly so chatty?

Andy yawned audibly and placed a warm hand on her arm. Another spark of electricity shot through her. "You're cheerful. You're never cheerful. What happened?"

"I am _not_ cheerful!" Except that she felt rather cheerful, too.

"You are as chatty as the Chief, sweet…" He stopped himself before the word could tumble over his lips.

"Mom! Andy! I told you we were on our way, why didn't you wait?" Ricky enveloped his mother in a hug, almost throwing her off the chair and spilling her coffee in the process. "Missed you, Mom!"

It took her a moment to react, to switch from what Andy had said – or hadn't said – to greeting her son. "I missed you too, honey! Gosh, let me look at you! You look happy, and you should do something about that hair!" She ran her hand over his scruffy beard and then smoothed out his hair.

Ricky pulled his head away, "No Mom, it's supposed to be like this. It's stylish!"

Now Sharon Raydor knew a lot about style and she knew quite a bit about haircuts, but what her son was sporting was neither stylish nor the work of a professional. Marwin chuckled in amusement and she pointed an accusing finger at him. "You cut it, didn't you?" The boy didn't even have the good sense to look guilty.

"Don't give them a hard time, Shar. Your boy's a nerd, he's gotta look the part. You better get used to it, mama fashionista!"

"Andy!" A moment ago he had been half asleep calling her her sweetheart. How had he woken up so quickly? "Stop ganging up on me you two! That's not fair."

They laughed all the way to the car making fun of Sharon's sense of fashion and the latest and greatest of nerd culture. Gosh, how she loved this kind of family life! It was what she had imagined when getting married, but Jack and her had never really had it. She found herself wishing Emily was there to laugh along with the boys. Marwin took the seat next to Ricky in the front and while they were driving through rush hour traffic she kept sneaking glimpses at Andy. He was laughing, his cheeks a little red and she couldn't help but be endeared. He seemed genuinely happy to be sitting in the car with their made-up family joking around with her and the two boys. He cast her a look and this time it was her cheeks that turned red. Gosh, she really had to be careful with her heart!

The boys insisted that they join them for dinner at their place. It was quite an elaborate affair, which they pretended to have thrown together the night before. They couldn't fool the pair of detectives: Andy saw the take-away cartons in the trash out in the hallway before they even entered the condo. It turned out that the whole dinner was actually part of a larger plan to get them to teach Ricky how to dance.

"You've never shown the slightest interest in any kind of dancing," Sharon mused and Marwin started laughing. "He still isn't interested, but there's this girl he really likes and he might have pretended to be a great dancer so she would go on a date with him, which she did – except that it requires dancing skills!"

"That's a perfectly good reason," Andy quipped and gave Sharon a wink. "Wouldn't you agree that dancing is a necessary life skill for a young man?"

"And you let him grow up without teaching him. What a disgrace!" she gave back bumping his shoulder.

"Aren't mothers supposed to teach their sons how to dance? Come on, ballerina!"

"You should do it together!" Marwin cut in, "and while you're at it, maybe you can teach me, too!"

The next day found the family cum Marwin at some fraternity dancing event. Andy explained the basic steps to both boys and then Sharon took Ricky to the dance floor. It took only a matter of seconds for her to regret her impulsive decision to help out. She loved that boy to death, but dancing with him? No! He stepped on her toes every opportunity he got, his hands were hot and sticky with sweat, his hair kept falling into his face obscuring his view. If this had been anyone but Ricky she would have found a polite excuse and run. Instead she tried to be encouraging.

"Just remember the steps Andy taught you, Ricky. Now, start with your right … ouch!" How difficult could it be? She was sure Ricky was perfectly capable of telling apart left and right. Had he paid any attention at all to Andy's earlier lesson? Well, this way he was never going to get the girl!

"Ouch!" she couldn't help but mutter a little later when he stepped on her foot yet again. She cast a helpless look at Andy who only shook his head looking as desperate as she felt. 'Save me,' she mouthed to which he responded with a shrug of his shoulders. The next look was pure Darth Raydor getting her an immediate response. She smirked when he tripped over his feet in his rush to make it across the floor as quickly as possible. When he cut in she gave him her most triumphant look and Ricky was more than willing to trade places with his father.

Gosh, did it feel good to be in the arms of somebody who knew what they were doing! Now she remembered why she loved dancing so much. Andy was everything their son was not. He was an assured dancer, a strong partner who took charge and expertly led her over the floor holding her securely yet at the proper distance. His eyes never left hers and his hands radiated a pleasant warmth. Years had passed, but their bodies remembered as if it was yesterday and as the pace of the music picked up, so did their movements. Soon they were both laughing as he swirled her around only to catch her securely in his arms. She felt like she was dancing on air, her heart so light and carefree, her body safe in Andy's hands. She was so caught up in the moment, she never saw the content looks the two boys exchanged.

Later when they were saying goodbye in front of their hotel rooms Andy cleared his throat. "I don't know if you understand how much a day like today means to me," he whispered with a rough voice. Instinctively she took a step towards him, close enough to feel his breath against her skin. Goosebumps erupted on her arms, her heartbeat picked up. "Today has been one of my happiest days in a long, long time." Then he leaned in and she closed her eyes in anticipation. Every moment now she would feel his lips against hers. They would finally kiss!

She felt them, she felt his lips!

Against her cheek.

"Goodnight, Sharon, thank you for letting me be a part of Ricky's life."

She wished him hasty goodnight and fled into her room. Had she completely misjudged him? She was so sure that he liked her! But maybe their relationship now wasn't about her and more about the family she had given to him; or perhaps he had found her wanting in some way. Now that he had gotten to know the real her, the Sharon of today and not the version of twenty years ago, there was no more talk of a second chance, not even after the wonderful day they had just spent together. She bit her lip and closed her eyelids against the tears that were threatening to spill.

Andy watched her hasty retreat. God, he wanted that woman so badly! Feeling her in his arms again had been mindblowing, her proximity, her scent, the intimacy of dancing - it had left him fighting the urge to pull her close and never let her go. He wanted to kiss her so badly, but he didn't dare to. On the plane ride she had frozen when he had not so accidentally kissed her hair. When they had ridden up in the elevator just now and he had walked her to her door he had almost kissed her again. She had closed her eyes looking so beautiful, so utterly kissable and he had gotten to within an inch of her lips. For a second he had felt her breath against his skin and had allowed himself to dream. But just like on the plane she had frozen, making no move to tell him his attention was wanted or even okay. He burned to tell her how much he felt for her and how important she was to him. But they had only just become friends. That alone was already far more than he deserved. She had fallen in love with a younger version of him, how could he expect her to still like him today?


	25. Signs

**Joyeux Anniversaire, Oneill29. J'éspère que tu aimes ce petit cadeau.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 24: Signs**

 **May 2012**

Andy stood there with a big goofy smile on his face and a curious expression of vulnerability in his eyes. She couldn't believe her ears. Had he really invited her to a Midsummer Night's Ball? Of all the things he could be inviting her to he had to pick the one that carried so much history for them. Or maybe that was the exact reason he chosen this event.

"Uh … midsummer?" she stammered. Why should he invite her to a ball?

"Well, it's not exactly midsummer night, but it's, uh, it's one of the most romantic balls in Los Angeles this summer."

"Romantic?"

"Well, that's what people call it." Andy lifted his arms and smirked. For a moment he looked at her expectantly, hopefully even. Then he seemed to crumble. He reached out, his fingers barely brushing her elbow. "You don't need to say anything right now. Just think about it, Sharon. The offer stands. I'd love to take you there."

Sharon turned around abruptly, her hand trying to smooth down her hair while her mind was working on overdrive and her legs took her away as quickly as possible. A romantic ball.

/

Sharon leaned back and groaned in a rather unladylike manner while Gavin opened another bottle of her favourite Pouilly Fumé. It was sinfully expensive, but then she was in serious trouble.

"So let me make this easy for you. You've been in love with him for two decades, you had one amazing night at the beach that still brings a blush to your face, for the past year at least you've been spending all your free time with him, you go on family trips with Ricky, you dream of him."

"I do not dream of him!"

"Correction: you dream of _carrying his child_ which is, of course, far less intimate than dreaming of him. You keep talking about how he almost kissed you that one time and almost kissed you that other time…"

"I do not!"

"Do, too. In short, you are at the very least a little bit in love with Lieutenant Flynn. He's a dashingly handsome fellow to boot and now he has asked you out on a date. There really is only one possible response to that."

"It's not that easy."

"What do you stand to loose, Shar? You love dancing and from everything I've ever heard from you, you love dancing with Andy Flynn most of all."

"I just … why the big gesture? Why not ask me?"

"I hate being so blunt, but you are not exactly approachable when it comes to matters of the heart. The two of you have a lot of history, a lot of baggage, but you both seem to have rather fond memories of that midsummer night. Just … show him that you like him."

"But what if he doesn't like me back?"

"No man whether straight or gay invites somebody to 'the most romantic ball in Los Angeles' without having feelings for them."

"But … he didn't kiss me!"

"Maybe he didn't dare to kiss you, maybe this invitation is showing you how much he'd like to do just that. Have you ever even encouraged the poor guy, given him signs?"

"Signs? What kind of signs?"

"Oh honey, signs that you're interested in him. It looks to me as though the man is trying pretty hard. You've got to give him something to go on."

"I'm spending time with him. We're talking about anything and everything. I danced with him and he knows that I have forgiven him."

"But does he know how you feel about him?"

"What are you expecting me to do, Gavin? Tell him I'm in love with him? Open myself up to more heartache? Serve him my heart on a platter only for him to throw it away?"

"Why would he do that? Sometimes, in order to get what you want, you need to take a little risk, open up to new possibilities. It looks like that's exactly what he did inviting you to the ball. He's even given you time to make up your mind. All you need to do now is show him his advances are falling on fertile ground."

She snort-laughed into her glass of wine. "Fertile ground? Seriously? You couldn't find a more fitting analogy? I'm an old woman, there is nothing fertile about me anymore."

"Pre-menopausal mood swings? Gosh, honey, go get the guy before it's too late!"

"Stop making fun of me! Look at me. No matter how great the dress you're going to find me, I'm still a far cry from the woman I was two decades ago. I've got wrinkles on my face, my breasts are sagging, my bum is non-existent. Everything is drooping! My haircolour is fake, as are some of my teeth!"

"Have I mentioned how much I love you in full girl-freakout mood? Don't forget, this guy is crazy about you and at his age, his eyesight's got to be failing!"

She huffed and threw a pillow at him.

When Gavin woke her up the next morning she found herself in his guest room. It was still early, the sun was only just rising, but she could already hear the birds sing. She had a splitting headache, but her friend was his usual energetic self.

"Good morning sleeping beauty. Since you passed out on me last night, let's continue right where we left off. Text him!" He shoved her phone into her face. "Tell him you'd be delighted to join him for the ball. Tell him that it's wonderful idea and that you're excited to go."

"I cannot tell him that! What if he didn't mean it like that?"

"Shar, we have been over this. He's inviting you to a romantic ball. There is nothing ambiguous about that. Call him!"

"After breakfast."

After breakfast she put the call off to lunchtime when she would have a free minute, but when she was in the parking garage waiting for the elevator, Andy sauntered up beside her. His eyes seemed to light up when he saw her and that gave her the courage to follow through on Gavin's advice. Signs. Signs! She gave Andy a coy smile and instead of a greeting only said yes. His brows furrowed in confusion. "Yes to what?"

Poor guy, how was he supposed to know what she was talking about? "Gosh, to the dance!" she stammered. Good heavens, this was like going to prom all over. "I mean, if your invitation still stands?"

"That it does."

"So, uh …"

"Have dinner with me tonight and I'll tell you all the details?"

Yes. Dinner. With Andy. She nodded, still a little flustered from unexpectedly running into him. Then, remembering Gavin's words from the night before, she took a step towards him and found herself looking up at him like a shy school girl, her hands fiddling with his tie. A sign. Surely Gavin hadn't meant she should do that in the parking garage of the LAPD?

Andy's hand briefly covered hers. "I'll pick you up at seven."

"Uh, fine." She let go of his tie and took a step back. Phew, why couldn't this be easier?

/

Sharon took another sip of the champagne before looking at herself in the mirror. This dress was special. It had looked good on the hanger already and she loved the feel of the soft midnight blue silk against her skin. Then she had seen Gavin's lips turning into a grin upon her leaving the changing room. Gosh, what a dress! It was simple in its elegance, but it showed off all her best parts. She looked stunning - and she wasn't one to say that lightly. A part of her was gratified that even well into middle age she could still look this good.

Gavin came into focus beside her, the flute of champagne raised already. "I assume we have got ourselves a winner?"

Sharon blushed. "Oh Gavin, don't get me wrong. The dress is … absolutely incredible. But what if it's too much? What if he really just wants to go out for a night of dancing?"

Gavin shook his head, "Believe me, even I want more than a night of dancing with you when you're wearing this dress, and I don't even like you in that way, honey."

Sharon rolled her eyes, but her cheeks became even more red when Gavin mentioned the second part of their little shopping trip. Lingerie. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. If she didn't know for sure that Sharon Raydor did not freak out, she would be freaking out right about now.

Gavin raised his glass and his eyebrows at the same time. "Now, let's find something that will truly blow his mind."

"Gavin, you cannot possibly think that he is going to see any of that on our first date!"

"See, that's progress! You're calling it a date! Even if it weren't, may I remind you what happened twenty-one years ago? Judging by that strapping young man in San Francisco, Mr Flynn got to see a lot more than just your undies."

She threw a bra at him and laughed when it got stuck on his glasses. "Serves you right!"

When the taxi dropped them at Gavin's ostentatious villa hours later Sharon was a little tipsy and rather grateful her trusty shopping assistant was handling their loot. She had just spent a small fortune and felt a little like a girl before prom night. She held onto Gavin's arm as their made their way to the front door and tried to keep her head from spinning.

"Now we need a game plan!" Gavin rubbed his hands together in glee. "You will no doubt be the most beautiful woman of the evening and he will only have eyes for you. Now, how will you show him you didn't just tag along for the dancing?"

"Signs."

"Exactly, signs. Now, honey, what did I teach you about signs?"

/

She had been to the bathroom at least ten times in the past half hour when her doorbell finally rang. Taking a deep breath that did nothing to settle her nerves she opened the door and found herself across from a bouquet of colourful wildflowers.

"Gosh, Andy, those are beautiful." Wildflowers were her favourite. They were so full of life and colour and nature.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you are." The compliment should have sounded corny, but it seemed so genuine coming from him. The way he looked at her gave her goosebumps and made her feel unsteady on her feet. She was grateful for the task of finding the flowers a vase and arranging them on her dinner table while she ran her fingers over the delicate petals. When she turned around she noticed that he had been checking her out and she could feel warmth rising in her face.

The evening passed like a dream. The ballroom was beautifully decorated, the food was excellent, they even served grenadine and soda. But she only had eyes for the man across from her. She couldn't believe that they never ran out of topics to talk about. They danced most of the night hardly taking a break to eat the dinner.

At first Sharon was very conscientious about giving Andy enough signs: she put her hand over his at dinner and she ran her fingers through the soft hairs at the back of his neck when they danced. She held his glance and leaned in to press a kiss against his cheek. Gosh, did he smell good!

The longer the evening went on the closer they moved until they were slow dancing with her arms around his neck and him holding her tight. Andy's lips were warm against her forehead and her temple and she tenderly placed a kiss on his neck. His hand slipped into her hair, then down her back stroking the soft skin left bare by her dress. She hummed and then moaned in pleasure no longer having to think about showing him just how much she liked this. His hands were gentle, she could feel the callouses when he touched her cheek, the fingers travelling on into her hair, cupping the back of her head and pulled her even closer. "I dreamed about this, about our dance, and I thought that I had imagined a lot of it. But I didn't. This … gosh, Sharon, this feels just as wonderful as it did back then."

"I know," she sighed and kissed his neck again, then his jaw. "This is wonderful, you are wonderful, Andy."

"No, not me. You are the wonderful one." She lifted her head and looked at him. She could so very easily get lost in his eyes, hand him her heart and let him run with it. The words of his letter came back to her while he kept caressing her cheek.

 _Sharon, I dream of holding you the way I held you all those years ago. I dream of a second chance for us._

A second chance. This was their second chance. Humming happily, she put her head back on his shoulder and placed another warm kiss against the skin of his neck. His scent was still intoxicating and she loved the way his arms tightened around her. "A second chance," she whispered to herself, "a chance at happiness."

She felt like she could melt into him, being this close to him was overwhelming all her senses. Then the music stopped for a moment and he took her hand leading her out onto the terrace. It didn't matter that it wasn't quite midsummer yet and that the ball had a different theme altogether. She glanced up at the stars and then into his eyes. Gosh. So this was it. This really was the moment. She cupped his face with one hand and returned his smile. Their eyes met and she nodded briefly before she closed her eyes, bringing her face closer to his.

"Sharon, oh Sharon," his voice was hoarse and sounded incredibly sexy. She hummed never opening her eyes but instead moving a little closer to him. Would he kiss her now? She felt his fingers on her face, tenderly running over the skin of her cheeks, down her neck and to her shoulders. Oh Andy. She waited with baited breath for what was sure to come next. Would he still taste the same? Would it still feel the same?

But instead of being pulled close to him she felt herself being pushed back, all contact gone save for his hands around her upper arms.

"Sharon, stop!"


	26. Midsummer Kisses

**Author's Note: Thank you so very much for the overwhelming response to the last chapter! Reading all your reviews really made my day (or really my week).**

* * *

 **Chapter 25: Midsummer Kisses  
**

 **May 2012**

"Please, stop."

The words washed over her like a cold wave. She pulled out of his embrace and without looking pushed him away. She ran into the darkness not caring that she lost her shoes or was ruining her tights. She needed to get away from Andy before the tears overwhelmed her, but Andy was right on her heels. "Sharon, don't run. God, I'm such an idiot, I am not pushing you away."

She fled to the edge of the terrace, now trapped between him and the banister protecting her from a steep cliff. There was no way to stop the tears. She was crying and she wouldn't be able to stop for a while. Her dreams, those tentative little dreams and hopes had been trashed in an instant. She was only grateful that she brought her credit card and phone and didn't depend on Andy for a ride back. She would need to brave the ballroom at some point, but right now all she cared about was to be away from him.

"Sharon."

"Go away, Andy. I think you've done enough for one night. Please at least give me so much respect as to leave me alone now. I am not interested in any of your explanations."

Andy could have shot himself for his clumsiness. A minute ago they had been dancing happily well on their way to what he thought would be their future and now Sharon was standing there, hurt and crying and he had made a mess of it all.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care. Go away."

"No, I'm not going to leave you like this."

"I think you have done enough for one night, Andy. I am asking you to leave, so please, go."

"I didn't want to send you away, I really wanted to kiss you. I just … I don't want it to happen like last time. I want it to be different. I don't want to kiss before you know how I feel about you."

Sharon laughed mirthlessly. "I don't see how that's important now but since you seem intent on telling me all these things, please be my guest."

He had hurt her. With only the best intentions, but he had once again hurt her. He had to tell her how he felt about her and if it was the last thing he did.

"Today is so different from twenty-one years ago. I want to be with you, because I know who you are now. Back then we had an instant connection. You were beautiful, and you were sexy and you believed in me. It was amazing to hold you, to kiss you, to get to touch you. But this, this is different. We are no longer strangers, we know each other now. You're not just the beautiful girl I was fascinated with, you're the woman I love. I know the real you now, Sharon, the woman, the mother, the reluctantly separated wife. Back then I knew I wanted you, and I wanted to be a better man for you, but I didn't know you. Not the way I do now. You're my friend and you're the mother of my son and when we kiss now, I need you to know that it's because I love you and I want to be with you."

He stopped, still breathing heavily and watched Sharon standing in the corner, her hands grabbing the banister. It seemed to take forever until she turned towards him. Even in the semi-darkness he could see that she had been crying. "Sharon, do you remember that second chance I talked about in my letter? I want that. I want a second chance with you." He could see her smile now, tentatively at first but then her face blossomed with a wide and beautiful smile. "Would you give me that chance?"

Sharon nodded and within seconds he had crossed the space between them and folded her into his arms. "And I needed you to know that before I kiss you."

"I don't want our first kiss to be when I'm crying," she sniffled and embraced him only more tightly, "I want a happy memory."

"So do I, sweetheart, so do I."

He held her until her crying had stopped and her shoulders were no longer shaking. The whole time his hands never stopped caressing her back and his lips remained firmly planted on top of her head. Their heartbeats slowly returned to normal and they could feel their breathing synchronize. It felt so right what they were doing. Holding each other felt right, felt like it was filling a void that had been there so for long. But it also felt like they had skipped an important step and Andy in particular wanted to do things in the proper order this time around. "I'm sorry I made such a mess of what should have been a romantic evening. Can … can I try again?"

She laughed and poked his chest with her finger. "You _better_ try again, mister, because I'd like to kiss you sometime soon!"

They made their way back into the hotel via a side entrance and Sharon restored her make-up in the bathroom. Andy waited for her at their table and when she returned he rose to greet her with a kiss to her cheek. "May I have this dance, milady?"

"With pleasure."

He took her hand and walked her across the dancefloor all the way out to the terrace where he pulled her into his arms. She giggled happily when he swirled her around making her hair fly. "This has been a great evening, Andy. I love this place, and the company."

"I'm glad you do." Andy smiled warmly at her and slowed down their dance until they were just comfortably swaying in each other's arms. "Sharon, you're an incredible woman. I've always been fascinated by you, but during the past two years I've fallen head over heels in love with you. Would … would you go out with me? I promise I won't disappear on you again." That last part was important to him. They both knew he wouldn't, but he needed to say it and he needed her to hear it. "I want a committed long term relationship with you. Damn, what am I saying. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you!"

His declaration made her knees a little weak and she nodded happily. It took her a moment to find her voice and he waited patiently, the smile never leaving his lips. "I'd like that, Andy, I'd like that very much." Gosh. His face! That had to be the cutest most endearing thing she had ever seen. His expression was one of pure joy, and a little surprise.

"Can I … I mean, would it be okay if I kissed you now?" he stammered, his hands beginning to shake a little.

His awkward stammer made her laugh and she felt a little sorry for him trying so hard to get everything just right. She had been waiting for this kiss for so very long and Andy had gone all out. It was time she did her part. After all, she was a grown, mature woman who knew what she wanted and what she wanted was in fact Andy.

Without further ado she covered his lips with hers.

Everything stopped. Everything fell away but the feeling of soft lips, the taste of pomegranate and coffee, the gentle exploration of lips and tongues accompanied by hands that touched exposed skin, found their way into soft hair, sought for purchase and held each other tight. The music continued to play but all they heard was each other, every barely suppressed groan and encouraging hum, gentle words of love they had so long longed to exchange. Hearts beat a fast rhythm and breaths quickened as they deepened their explorations, sought new territory and clung to each other like the long-lost lovers they were.

"Oh Andy," she sighed into their kiss, "Andy, I love you."

Andy pulled back just enough to look at her with wonder. She thought that she had seen him fully joyful a moment ago, but this … this was different. He was trying to say something, but no sound left his lips. Instead his eyes were beginning to mist over.

"Hey, we said no crying during our first kiss," she admonished him softly, "happy memories, remember?"

"Sweetheart, I _am_ happy. I'm just a sentimental old fart."

"You're my sentimental old fart!" Her next kiss was far less tentative than the first. They allowed themselves to get caught up in the moment, the intensity and passion of two decades ago coming back and sweeping them away. Sharon couldn't help but groan when he pulled her close and his hands roamed over her body. Gosh!

At some point they broke apart, both flushed and a little out of breath, only too painfully aware of their rather public surroundings.

"I want to be alone with you."

At first he thought he had misheard her, but she was looking at him expectantly. "Wow. I guess I'm a little ... I hoped you'd say something like that but after being such an idiot earlier…"

Sharon interrupted him by putting her finger to his lips. "None of that matters anymore. What counts now is our future." _Our_ _futur_ e. The words had rolled off her tongue without a second thought and it felt so overwhelmingly right to say them. _Our futur_ e.

"You want us to be alone," Andy repeated just to make sure he had gotten her right and when she nodded emphatically, he gave her a wink. "I always thought you'd be a little more old-fashioned, you know?"

"Being old-fashioned certainly isn't what got me pregnant the last time 'round!"

"Sharon!" Andy groaned and pulled her against him, nosing her hair aside so he could nibble on her earlobe. "I do … I did have a plan, but seeing as the evening hasn't exactly gone to plan..."

"What was your plan, darling?"

Darling. The way she said it with her soft voice gave him all sorts of ideas. He pressed another kiss to her neck and sucked the skin into his mouth taking a few moments to just enjoy her scent and the way she shuddered under his ministrations.

"Well, I actually have a few options for you. To complete our experience from 21 years ago we could spend the night down there at the beach, but I figure that might get a little uncomfortable and a little sandy. I could kiss you goodnight on your doorstep later and you might ask me in for a nightcap. I could take you home with me, offer you coffee." He went back to kissing her neck enjoying the way she pressed herself closer to him. Then, just as she was about to speak, he whispered one last suggestion. "There is this small hotel not far from here. They have a beautiful garden, lots of flowers and … well, we have a room there."

" _We_ have a room," she repeated with a note of amusement. "Why do _we_ have a room?"

"Because I wanted tonight to be perfect. I wanted to make it special for both of us. Sharon, I may have reserved their honeymoon suite."

"Oh Andy! The honeymoon suite?"

"Come on, say yes. I already have a bag in the car, the way there takes us past your condo anyway, you pack what you need and …"

"… we spend a night in the honeymoon suite," she finished his sentence. "Gosh, that sounds incredibly romantic."

"We'll even have a four-poster bed."

Andy felt like the luckiest man on earth while he waited patiently for her to pack. When she reappeared he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. She had restored her make-up, but more noticeably, she had changed into a new dress. It was purple and much less formal than the one she had worn to the ball. It reminded him of the one she had worn all those years ago and he let his eyes wander over the mesmerising sight in front of him, the endless expanse of her legs and those beautiful curves he so admired.

"If we're staying in the honeymoon suite I need a going-away outfit."

Andy swallowed hard and offered her his arm. Damn. Was he crazy taking her to a honeymoon suite of all places? She had already said yes to dating him, maybe he shouldn't have pushed his luck this far. "You know that nothing has to happen tonight, right? There is no pressure, no expectations. I'd be perfectly content just holding you."

Sharon stopped mid movement and put her hand on her hip, turning in to look at him. "Really, you would be content with that? Because I wouldn't! Come on, Andy, it's been almost 21 years. Aren't you at least a little curious?"

"Sweetheart," he stuttered, too nervous to properly interpret the look of incredulity on her face, "you have no idea how curious I am. I've been dreaming of this moment for a long time."

But he still was surprised when she took his face into her hands, her eyes burning into his with a glaring intensity despite the amused expression on her face.

"Andy, darling, you've planned a perfect midsummer night for us. You don't need to get cold feet now. I love you, and I want you. And preferably quite soon!"


	27. Quite Soon

**Chapter 26: Quite Soon  
**

 **May 2012**

Her hand was warm through the fabric of his trousers, moving in tantalising circles although never really getting close enough. He squirmed under her touch and tried to keep his eyes on the road before he finally gave in and lifted her hand to his lips. "You're _very_ distracting, sweetheart, and I'd really like to get us there safely." She smiled and instead started caressing the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. They rode in charged silence for what seemed like forever and when at last they pulled up to the hotel, her lips were on his the moment he put the car in park. They had waited so long that now every extra minute seemed an imposition. By the time they made it to their suite, Sharon's hair was a mess and her make-up was smudged for the second time in as many hours. But all Andy cared about was the sound of her laughter and the feeling of her in his arms.

They left the windows and door leading to their secluded terrace wide open while they slowly undressed each other to the sound of the crashing waves. The moonlight served as a potent reminder of times past casting the scene in the same silver glow they remembered so well. They had both aged, but they were comfortable with their own bodies and with each other. Overall Sharon thought that she had done rather well. Andy would have liked for his belly to still be as toned as it once had been and he couldn't help suck it in a little when she ran her hands over it. She had expected the scars from the attack and had prepared herself for what she would find, but actually seeing them constricted her throat so badly she could hardly breathe. She traced the red marks with her fingers trying not to think of the way he had collapsed in her arms that night. When it didn't work she sighed shakily. "I just … Andy, if I'd lost you then we would have never had this. We would never have reconciled. I had your wonderful letter, I would have known you loved me. But I would never have been able to tell you how I feel about you. You would have died before…"

Andy stopped her with a soft kiss, his lips moving against hers as he showed her just how very alive he was. "But I didn't die and we are here now. That is all that matters. We've got today and tomorrow."

"Today and tomorrow," she repeated and then ran her hands over the scars again. They were not as red as they would have been just after the attack, but still new and very visible. There were other scars there, a gunshot wound to the upper arm she knew about. It had only been a graze a good decade ago and she remembered going home that night to watch Ricky sleep wondering if he would ever know his real father.

"Sweetheart." Andy's quiet voice brought her back to the present. "We're here." He gently pulled her up so they could kiss again, an unspoken understanding of how grateful they were to have today, to have this now despite their past. Their present and their future was right here – and that in itself was already overwhelming.

Soon it was Andy's term to explore Sharon's body, to run his hands along curves that still felt familiar because he had traced them a million times in his dreams. Her body was the pure milky white he remembered, but there were more freckles and small marks now, particularly on her shoulders and cleavage. Burying his face in her warmth he greedily sucked in her scent. Her skin was smooth and perfect, her body felt softer now, a little rounder in places. He groaned happily when he discovered that the tiny birthmark on the underside of her left breast was still there and kissed it like a long-lost friend. She hissed just like she had when he had first discovered it and he couldn't resist kissing it again and again. For a moment he felt like the young man he once had been, his life still young and full of possibilities. He pulled back to let his eyes roam over her body stopping when she met his gaze with equal intensity. No, he didn't want the girl he had fallen for, he wanted the woman who was looking back at him now with hooded eyes and a seductive little smile.

"God, you're magnificent, I'll never be able to stop touching you."

"Then don't," she whispered, the faint blush on her cheeks making him fall for her even more. He kissed the birthmark again, tickling her until she squirmed and gently admonished him, her voice low while his fingers followed the shape of her waist. It was then that he saw it: a thin white line stretching low across her abdomen, an old scar that had longed since faded yet was new to him. Seconds ticked by before he understood the true magnitude of that scar, understood why it hadn't been there the last time. For the second time that night his eyes welled up and now an iron fist was compressing his heart making it hard to breathe. He stilled, frozen in shock. He could feel the touch of Sharon's warm hands on his shoulders, but he couldn't move an inch. "Andy, darling," she beckoned him with a soft voice and then wrapped her hands around his arms gently coaxing him until he was lying next to her. Green eyes met his. He couldn't quite believe why they were so still full of warmth.

"I hurt you," he said hoarsely. Sharon only shook her head and rested her hand against his cheek making it impossible for him to turn away from her.

"Were you scared?"

"I had no energy to be scared. By the time they decided on the c-section I had been in labour for so long, I just wanted to hold my baby."

"You never told me about that."

He couldn't believe that she would smile at him now of all moments, a radiant smile that made her eyes light up with happiness. "None of that mattered the moment they placed Ricky into my arms. "

"Were you alone?"

"No, Andy, I wasn't alone." Then her expression changed, it seemed like she was remembering the night of Ricky's birth, a far away look in her eyes as she swallowed hard. He could see she was fighting with herself, heard a quiet sigh, then another louder one. "But the truth is, I missed you. I thought of you. I kept hoping you would miraculously appear, take me into your arms and tell me you loved me. I imagined that you were holding me, I imagined that you had been called away on a case but really wanted to be by my side."

"And I never came." Every word hurt his throat, but it was nothing compared to the pain she must have been in. "I left you alone while they cut you open to have our son."

Even now she still looked lonely and a little scared. She had pulled her lower lip into her mouth and had bitten down on it drawing a little blood. He could see the pain and the memories that were threatening to overwhelm her. So much pain, so very much pain that he had caused her. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room filling the space between them, a silence so deafening it drowned out even the sound of the crashing waves. He focused on her deep regular breaths and clung to them like a drowning man.

"I'm sorry I ruined the mood."

"No, don't say that. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I should have. It's just that it was so long ago and I … I'm sorry, Andy." He wanted to tell her that she had no reason to be sorry, but she placed a finger against his lips silently begging for permission to continue. "Maybe it was a bit foolish of me to think that just because we know how we feel about each other now everything else would fall into place. It didn't and it won't. We have a past and it's full of memories. Being pregnant and alone was difficult, Andy, and it was frightening. My labour was long and it was excruciatingly painful. I was lonely and you should have been there. But what I remember isn't the pain or the loneliness. It's the moment I heard my baby's first cry, how he was placed into my arms, his smell, looking into his eyes. Andy, that scar reminds me of one of the most joyous days in my life. The day my little boy was born."

' _Our_ little boy,' Andy wanted to correct, but he only nodded, tears in his eyes once again. The birth of their son certainly was a joyful occasion, but thinking of Sharon in pain wishing he had been there would forever haunt him. "I wish I had been there to share that day with you," he simply said, "the good and the bad. Thank you for giving me a second chance despite all the hurt I caused you. I promise you I will do everything not to fail you again." A small smile appeared on her lips, a genuine one that spread over her face all the way to her eyes. Encouraged he leaned closer and when he heard a little hum he captured her lips in a kiss. Sharon responded, but it was a kiss devoid of the fire and passion they had shared earlier. It was gentle and soft conveying love, tenderness, affection. It signified forgiveness for their past and gratitude for where they stood today.

They both slept fitfully that night. Bodies intertwined, embraces too tight, hands holding on with too much strength they kept waking each other up, apologising while assuring themselves of the other's presence. Sharon held Andy when his guilt overwhelmed him, founds words of absolution for sins past, then words of love. He had laid his heart open to her earlier and now it was her turn to tell him how much she, too, wanted that second chance. It was far from the romantic night they had imagined, but it was more important and more powerful than any romance could have been. They were together and they would hold onto each other for dear life. In the early hours of the morning they finally settled into the same position they had slept in two decades ago. Sharon cradled in Andy's arms, his face buried deeply in her hair they drifted off into a deep sleep. When they woke again the sun was high in the sky. It was only then that they made love, bright sunlight flooding in through the open door leaving no darkness and illuminating every last nook and cranny of the room and their lives. They bared not only their bodies but their souls in a union they knew would last and they vowed to never again let go.

Free to enjoy each other they spent a lazy afternoon cuddling under the shade of the old trees in the garden, talking but mostly just revelling in their newfound closeness. Their embrace wasn't as tight and their grip on each other no longer as strong as it had been during the night, but neither of them was quite ready to break the magic of their 'honeymoon'. When a phone started ringing they both ignored it choosing instead to focus all their energy on their rather passionate kiss. But they were also both police officers and you didn't just ignore calls no matter how inconvenient the timing. Andy finally broke the kiss with an apologetic smile and an unhappy groan while his hand was blindly grasping in the direction of the offending sound.

"Please tell me you're not being called out on a case," she pouted and made him wish he'd turned off the damn thing to begin with - until the caller id made him grin. Without her glasses Sharon had to squint to read the name on the screen, but then she squealed excitedly and clapped her hands. "It's Ricky! Come on, pick up! I haven't talked to him in a week!"

"What, like this?" Andy's finger moved between the two of them while he tried to imagine what they would look like to their son: Sharon in her silky robe, her hair gorgeously wild, her lips still a little red from kissing, his arms wrapped tightly around her. "You do realise this is a facetime call, sweetheart? He'll be able to actually see us."

"We're both decent," Sharon giggled and shrugged her shoulders. God, he adored this carefree side of her. She buried it so very deeply, but when it came out it was the most endearing thing he could imagine. "Well, decent enough," she raised her eyebrow and provocatively ran her hand over his naked torso giving him goose bumps. "Come on, Andy, this is going to be so much fun!" She adjusted her robe to make sure she was properly covered and hit the green button on the screen.

"Good morning Ricky, what a lovely surprise," she chirped.

"Hey Mom! Why do you answer Andy's phone? And it's not even morning anymore." Instead of an answer Sharon tilted the phone a little so Ricky could see Andy next to her. "Mom! Oh my god, Mom! How am I ever going to unsee this? Why aren't you dressed?" The look of shock and utter disbelief on Ricky's face together with the squeaky sound of his voice were simply too much. Sharon giggled and then burst into full blown laughter, snorting loudly until she turned into Andy's chest to muffle the sound.

"It's Sunday, our day off," Andy cut in because the laughing woman in his arms didn't seem like she would be able to form a coherent sentence any time soon.

"And you habitually get naked with each other on Sundays and forgot to tell me about that? Congrats, old man, but damn, this is way too much information!" Sharon snorted again and Andy could feel the laughter rising in his own chest. He was tempted to just join in the merriment. Then he remembered the many times Ricky had confronted him about his feelings for his mother. "Ricky, you were the one that pointed out to me that I was in love with her to begin with. You said that it was time for me to make my move."

Ricky's face contorted into something akin to disgust. "Yeah, I did, but I never thought that you would like … with her!"

What? They had talked about her? She sat up and looked directly into the camera. "Uh, Ricky," she said in a carefully measured voice, "I think you are having the wrong reaction to this. You should be happy for us."

"I can be happy for you and disgusted by … this … at the same time. Oh my god, so when I come to LA am I gonna wake up one morning and find Andy sitting at the table in his robe and t-shirt?"

Sharon's heart made a little jump at the thought of a family breakfast and she turned to Andy with a goofy smile only to find the same expression directed back at her. So Ricky and Andy had actually talked about Andy's feelings for her? And then she connected all the dots: the joint trips to San Francisco, the seat reservations on the flights, the dance. Oh well, two could play that game. "I'm not sure I'd like you in a robe and t-shirt," she whispered to Andy making sure Ricky could hear, "I think this is much better."

"Uh, Mom! Fine, if this is what you want, okay … I just hope you know what you're doing!"

"I know exactly what I'm doing and I think it's going exceedingly well. Goodbye, Ricky!"

Sharon dropped the phone into her lap and leaned her forehead against Andy's laughing once again.

"God, Sharon, I can't believe you scared the poor boy like that!"

"And I can't believe you talked to him about your feelings for me! You owe me an explanation for that, but first things first. Now where were we when that phone rang?"


	28. A Ruse

**Chapter 27: A Ruse**

 **June 2012**

 _Andy_. No longer Lieutenant Flynn, it was just _Andy_ now and seeing his name flash on her phone invariably brought a smile to her lips. She swiped the screen with confidence greeting him in that low tone she knew he liked.

"Sharon." The familiar voice made her skin tingle and sent jolts of electricity through her body. How quickly things could change! "How are you, my dear?" She chuckled at the old-fashioned expression and pressed the phone close to her ear, "Now that I'm hearing your voice I couldn't be better."

"Are you sure? My voice alone is enough?"

Not quite, but she knew he would already be downstairs in her parking garage waiting to pick her up for a dinner he had assured her would be spectacular. 'But nowhere near as spectacular as you are,' he had said only that morning before getting out of bed at an ungodly hour to head to a crimescene where they would arrive within a few minutes of each other keeping up appearances.

"You've grown very quiet. Are you still with me?"

"How I wish I already was," she laughed.

He groaned audibly, his voice that of a petulant little boy "Hurry up and get down here. Or I'm coming to get you."

"Stop making empty promises, Lieutenant. We'd never make it to dinner if you did that."

Still laughing she slipped into her shoes and almost toppled over in her haste to get out the door. She fluffed up her hair once more, checked her reflection in the mirror and left the condo with a spring in her step. It was only when she had pressed the elevator button that she noticed she had forgotten something important. Gosh, her head really was in the clouds today! She retraced her steps to fetch her small suitcase for the 'Saturday out in the country' Andy had jokingly promised when he invited her to stay with him in Valencia. She was so much looking forward to this dinner, and even more than the dinner itself, she was looking forward to the company and to what would come after dinner. She shook her head at herself. She really did feel like a teenager.

Andy was waiting for her just outside the elevator doors with a bright smile. When the doors slid opened he stretched out his arms and she walked right into them as though she had been doing it all her life.

"I missed you," they said in unison.

/

The garden stretched out before them with a surprisingly well-kept swing that hadn't been used in years. Behind it were roses in all shades and colours. They were in pristine condition and she could only imagine how much work it took to keep them that way in the California sun. Andy told her that he had put in a watering system so they would be watered even if he had to be away at work. "Nicole liked roses for a while when she was younger. I'm not sure she remembers, but I promised her I'd look after them." Years and years ago before his ex-wife had moved out with their kids. Years and years during which Andy had faithfully tended to the flowers his daughter hardly ever saw.

Andy's home in Valencia had become their sanctuary. Green and quiet they liked spending time there away from LA and their work. It was their place to be together without interruptions, phones switched off when they were both off duty. They spent most nights at the condo, but between their unpredictable working hours they didn't find the time to really speak with each other. And even though they had forged a close friendship during the past couple of years, there was still much they didn't know about each other, so much to learn and catch up on about the intervening years.

Sharon looked at the disused swing and sandbox with a touch of sadness. She knew Andy had built them with his own hands together with the detectives from Robbery / Homicide - no doubt while Provenza had sat by supervising them. That had been years ago just after Andy had gotten sober. She imagined him on a warm sunny day, bare-chested of course and his hair still dark, strong hands sawing wood and wielding a hammer - what an attractive image! He had done that for children who had hardly ever been allowed to visit him. She on the other hand had pleaded with Jack for weeks to set up a sandbox for his daughter Emily who was right there with them. Nothing had ever come of it while the man at her side had lovingly built a playground for his absent children. Sharon pulled up her legs and buried more deeply into his embrace with a content sigh. If she squinted a little she could easily imagine their grandchildren playing here.

Andy however was a little on edge. She hadn't yet talked about her meeting that morning and even though she had been confident in advance he knew how much depended on it. "How did it go with the Pope?" he asked tentatively his lips brushing her temple. He took a deep breath of her calming scent while he waited for her answer.

"I informed him that we were dating," she said evenly giving him no clue as to the outcome.

Andy could feel his stomach tighten. Now wasn't the time to play games. Didn't she understand how important this was for him? "Come on, Shar," he gently nudged her, "how did he take it?"

She turned, a victorious smile on her face, green eyes sparkling with open amusement. "Pope tried very hard not to laugh into my face – then he looked at Taylor and they both dissolved into laughter like two little boys. They are now convinced that this is just another ruse to flush out the leak in the division."

"And you didn't correct them?"

"Of course not, why should I? I've made my notification. If they don't take the head of internal affairs seriously that is their problem."

"Darn, Sharon, you are brilliant!" In his excitement Andy missed her lips, his kiss landing on her cheek instead. "You've just outsmarted the Pope and his little weasel all in one go! God, I am so glad you are on my side! You knew they would react like that, didn't you?"

"I hoped they would, but I didn't expect them to actually fall for it!" Her eyes were still glittering with amusement. "Oh, and you're off the hook as well. No need to report to your commanding officer. The two bigwigs have graciously agreed to take over that notification." Sharon turned a little and sat up straighter, "Don't you worry, Captain," she said in a perfect imitation of Pope's slightly condescending tone, "the commander here and myself will make sure Chief Johnson is informed of this exciting new development."

"This is going to go spread like wildfire, Sharon."

She shook her head and looked at him triumphantly. "It won't, because I took the opportunity to remind them that this was personal information that needed to be threated with the necessary confidentiality and that failure to do so..."

"…would lead to an investigation by yours truly. God, Sharon, remind me never to get on your bad side! I wouldn't stand a chance."

"You never did, honey, but I'm glad you're admitting it now." This time Andy was more careful with his aim and was rewarded by soft lips eagerly kissing him back. He couldn't have cared less about following policy but he knew that Sharon did. Now they were in the clear. He pulled her to sit in his lap and she hissed when he slipped his cool hands under her top. Soon she relaxed into his embrace, her fingers playing with his hair, her breath warm and humid against his skin.

Life would be perfect if there wasn't still that one issue. Andy hated to burst their bubble, but they had spent too much time not talking about their feelings and he had to know for sure. "Now that we're official, can I ask you something about work?"

"Andy, you can always ask me anything about work. That has nothing to do with the status of our relationship."

Andy tightened his arm around her waist. "You know, missy, if your attitude wasn't such a turn on, I could really strangle you sometimes."

She chuckled, but then she lifted her head to look at him with a serious expression. "There is nothing you cannot ask me, Andy, but you know I may not always be able to fully answer all of your questions. I'm still bound by confidentiality and the LAPD Manual."

He knew that. It was what they had talked about at length when they were becoming friends. She had made sure to report their friendship outside of the office to Chief Pope who had only raised an eyebrow. Flynn and Raydor? Friends? What a strange thought. For all he knew they might be in the same fitness club and the overly correct Captain needed to make sure she followed the rules.

"But you're sure that I am not the leak in our division?"

"Oh honey, are you seriously worried about that?" Sharon thought that it was obvious. She would have cooled down their relationship months ago if she had had even so much as a sliver of doubt and she most certainly wouldn't be here in his arms right now!

Andy misinterpreted her silence. "The only person I really talk to apart from you is Provenza. He knows everything already and you won't even let me talk about work."

"Andy, gosh, stop defending yourself. Of course I'm sure! Do you think I would be spending so much time with you if I thought you were betraying the LAPD?"

"Who knows? You could have been investigating me."

"But not by sleeping with you! I did investigate you and that investigation was over months ago. You were the first in your division. I haven't been able to formally share my findings because I am still looking for the leak."

"Even though they dropped Brenda from the lawsuit and the LAPD settled with Goldmann?"

Sharon nodded emphatically and then poked his chest with her finger. "I am always surprised just how much you know, Lieutenant Flynn, particularly of things you shouldn't know anything about!"

Andy only smirked. Knowing everything about everyone was usually her department, but of course people talked and the Chief had made sure to use the infamous 'Johnson Rule' to her advantage as often as she could. "Why are you on the Chief's side?"

"I'm not on the Chief's side. I'm on the side of the law. I'm on the side of the LAPD. I'm on the side of every upright officer."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Just as long as you can go first," he said teasingly and was surprised when she kissed him passionately and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You're the one who is always letting me go first now, Andy," she whispered hoarsely before she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, "you're not at all like you used to be."

Andy was dumbstruck. She wasn't talking about FID anymore, was she? Lawsuits and investigations were certainly the furthest from his mind now. Damn, that woman knew how to keep him on his toes with her unexpected segues! He tried to get a look at her to see if she was really telling him what he thought she was, but she kept her face firmly pressed into his neck only humming in response to her name. He settled for running his fingers of one hand through her hair while the other slipped up along the soft skin of her back, his lips near her ear as he mumbled just how much she deserved to be put first. She hummed again.

Why talk about work and the leak in his division when they could have this?


	29. Scented Oracle

**Chapter 28: Scented Oracle**

 **July 2012**

By the time she pushed the key into lock, Sharon was well and truly exhausted. She sniffed, too tired to look for a tissue, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She could hear her mother chastising her through the headache that was developing at her temples. As far as she was concerned, the weekend couldn't come fast enough. She let herself into her condo with a relieved sigh. At least Andy would be there and she had nothing a little TLC and some good sleep wouldn't fix. He didn't disappoint her: he was in the kitchen with his shirt sleeves rolled up. He had commandeered the apron she never used and his arms were covered in flour. Her heart warmed at the simple domesticity of it all. Being with Andy made her happy.

"Honey, I'm home," she sing-songed as she sauntered over. She wrapped her arms around him and allowed herself a moment's rest against his broad back.

"Been waiting for you." Andy turned around so he could look at her and return the hug. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

She flashed him a wide smile and rose on her toes to softly kiss his lips. "I am now. Let me get changed and I'll help you."

He shook his head. "Everything is already in the oven. That cold still bothering you?" When she nodded he leaned down and pressed his face into her hair. "Everything's fresh from the farmers' market and there's plenty of lemon in the salad dressing." Lemon, his secret cold remedy. Sharon hummed in appreciation. "There's time for a bath before we eat." Now she was the one to shake her head, her body growing slack in his arms as she leaned more heavily into him.

Half an hour later they were cuddled up on the balcony feeding each other lasagna and salad. Andy watched the colour return to Sharon's cheeks. She took a generous sip of the honeyed herbal tea he had prepared for her and gave him another one of her smiles. "I talked to Emily today. She really wants to meet you. I was thinking maybe we could go to New York for a weekend and see her perform? I mean, I know you're not the biggest fan of the Ballet..."

"I wouldn't miss the chance to see your girl on stage, Sharon! Why don't we ask Ricky to join us and make this a family trip?" The words were out before he could stop himself. Family trip. With his own children out of the picture, it seemed so easy to claim them as family, not just Sharon and Ricky, but Emily, too. "I mean, if that's okay for you."

"Of course it is!" How often had Sharon wished for Jack to be at her side, just once, for one of Emily's performances? And unlike Andy who was a sportsman through and through, Jack actually liked the Ballet. They even used to save up their money for tickets - back before they had gotten married. But they hadn't seen Emily perform since her childhood days. "Just let me get over this cold first."

"You're working too hard. Between finding the leak and shadowing us and running your own division…" Andy stopped himself mid-sentence when he saw her raised eyebrow. He knew that he had so much to make up to her. He had left her alone for too many years and he wanted nothing more than to give her his full support and attention. At the same time, Sharon had done well for herself. She didn't _need_ his support, but he hoped that she would accept it. At least some of it. He cleared his throat. "Tonight is my treat. Why don't you go on ahead while I finish up here."

She looked at him and he could see the exact moment she caved. She nodded. "Thank you, Andy. This has been wonderful. Would … would you mind bringing down the trash tonight?"

Andy laughed and chivalrously offered her a hand to pull her to her feet. "Your wish is my command."

By the time he stepped into her bedroom, Sharon was already asleep. He took the opportunity to look at her. Without her make-up she looked even more tired, the skin underneath her eyes was dark. He leaned in and gently kissed her temple. Their trip to New York would have to wait, he would take her up the coast for a long weekend first to give her time to rest and recover and him to thoroughly spoil her. When he slid under the covers she moved into him pulling his arms more tightly around herself mumbling something that sounded a lot like 'I love you' to his ears. For a moment he hoped she would wake up so she could hear his response, but after a few shuffles she grew calm again.

"I love you," he whispered, even if she couldn't hear him.

/

 _Sharon woke up feeling rather joyful and it took her a while to remember the cause of that joy. It wasn't pure joy, she noticed now, it was mixed with trepidation. But the fact remained: yesterday had been the first day the top button of her uniform pants wouldn't close. Her baby was growing – and she was starting to show. Soon there would be no hiding her condition. She sighed and tried to push back the less happy thoughts, like the fact that her husband was so unhappy about the pregnancy he had disappeared once again and that she couldn't even disapprove of his actions, or that the father of her baby had dropped off the face of the earth. Her hand caressed her abdomen while she buried her face more deeply into the pillow taking deep breaths to fight the nausea. She had a few minutes yet before she had to get up and she was determined to make the most of that time. She turned to lie on her back, but found she couldn't. She heard the grunt before strong arms surrounded her, lips moving near her ear, a raspy voice telling her to go back to sleep. She knew that voice! And she remembered the arms that were holding her, the hand that had joined hers over her abdomen, pulling her closer._

" _Andy, you came back," she whispered in wonder, "you came back."_

 _The arms around her tightened and then she felt herself gently turned, the lips now kissing her forehead._

" _Yeah, I'm back, sweetheart."_

 _She hid her face in the crook of his neck and breathed in his familiar smell, overcome by emotions. Andy was back. That was all that counted. "I missed you so much," she said quietly, "I thought I would have to raise our baby without you."_

" _Our baby? Are you – Sharon, are you pregnant?"_

 _She hummed in agreement. For a moment he seemed to grow rigid and she was afraid he would bolt, but then his whole body relaxed and he started chuckling. "And you're telling me like this, all cute and half asleep in my arms?" She hummed again and snuggled closer to him, yawning as sleep reclaimed her. "You're back. Everything will be okay now," she whispered._

'Gosh, this is nice', Sharon thought as she woke up. She had been alone for so long that it still surprised her just how easily she had adapted to sharing a bed with Andy. She loved waking in his arms and she could tell by the sound of his breathing that he was no longer asleep. She opened her eyes to a joyful smile and sparkling eyes. Something about him was different this morning. She narrowed her eyes: there was a light there, a brightness, something special added to the way he looked at her, more tenderness maybe, a look as though he had been let in on a secret. His eyes were burning into hers, too intense for the hour of the day. Yet it didn't make her feel uncomfortable. When his calloused hand began to move softly through her hair, she was content to just lie there and bask in his attention. His hand drifted down her neck and along her side until it came to rest over her stomach, warm and heavy. The expression on his face changed yet again and this time, it took her breath away. Gosh! He looked so … happy just didn't do his expression any justice. Besotted? Exhilarated? It radiated off of him forming a presence in the room, tangible as though she could reach out and hold onto it. She shivered involuntarily and leaned in to kiss him. Hard. He didn't seem surprised, but kissed her back with equal fervour. She didn't think too much of it when he kissed her c-section scar and called her mommy. After all, she was the mother of his son.

/

"Get out," she whispered dangerously, her hands on her hips, "just get the hell out of here." Andy was flabbergasted. How had the lovely morning that had started with unexpected, but thoroughly wonderful news and making love in Sharon's silky sheets turned into this? He had tried to tell her how excited he was, called her mommy and kissed her belly imagining their child growing there. She hadn't seemed to want to talk about it, but she had appreciated his pink shirt as they got dressed side by side and had helped him pick his tie. He had offered to cook her a special breakfast hoping to talk about the about the baby, but the moment she got into the kitchen, things had spiralled out of control faster than he could have ever imagined. His head was still spinning now.

The woman across from him took a deep breath and when he didn't move, she took a step closer to him, her shoulders squared. "Out! I said out!"

He felt catapulted back in time to their many fights at work, except she had rarely ever raised her voice at him then. God, she looked magnificent in her dark suit and luscious hair flowing over her shoulders, no trace of yesterday's exhaustion. He lifted his arms and tried to apologise. He didn't think he had really done anything wrong. Well, not by his standards anyway. What difference did it make whether he took the trash down at night or in the morning on his way to work?

"Not another word from you! Get out of my sight!" She ripped the door open and stomped down her foot, the heel like the shot of a pistol when it connected with the floor. The early morning sun caught in her hair and he was momentarily distracted.

"Sweet…"

"Enough!" Sharon pushed him the rest of the way through the door and slammed it against his back. Within a second the door was wrenched open again, a warm and apologetic expression on her face now. How on earth could her mood change so quickly?

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" She seemed almost frantic now. Too stunned to respond he merely shook his head and within a heartbeat, her eyes were shooting daggers again.

"I should have! You'd have deserved it. Now, get out of my sight and you better find a way to make this up to me, Flynn. Bring chocolates. Flowers. Nice ones! Uh, whatever! And come back!"

This time the door didn't hit him when it closed mere inches away from his face. Had she really just _ordered_ him to come back? He shook his head in confusion. Women. Who could understand them? Maybe she was having her period, he reasoned, but no ... she couldn't, could she?

When Provenza asked him to come on an errand with him later that morning he was only too glad to oblige his friend. He hated slow days at the office, particularly on a day like today when he couldn't stop worrying about his earlier fight with Sharon. He tried calling her several times only for her to reject every single call. Then he sent a message, and another one. No response. He couldn't figure out why she had blown up like that. Surely the trash couldn't be _that_ important? He had seen her angry with him, and cold, but he had never seen her loose her temper. Then his phone finally showed a new message:

' _I don't want to talk to you.'_

She had brushed him off. He deflated. He didn't want to fight, all he wanted was to hold her and tell her how happy he was. He composed another message and sighed so loudly that both Liz and his partner shot him a concerned look. A glint of interest flash in Liz's eyes. Damn, that woman had always had a knack for reading him.

"Trouble with the ladies," Liz inquired too casually and he shrugged, mumbling something about idiots. He only hoped that was enough to throw her off the scent of an interesting story.

"Yes, Flynn, how's that new relationship working out for you? Is your San Francisco girl still making you happy?" Andy clenched his teeth together. He didn't want to give anything away. "See, Liz, Flynn here has this new mystery girlfriend up North, goes up to see her all the time. That woman has him by the balls."

"Louie, language!" Liz interjected, but Provenza continued unfazed. "He doesn't even look at the pretty blonde ones anymore. That woman's got you tame and eating out of her hand, doesn't she."

That woman. Andy had to work hard to keep a level face. Provenza couldn't possibly know. It was just a turn of phrase. "Leave me alone," he grumbled. His partner's needling annoyed him on a good day, but today he could barely take it.

"Tell you what, next blonde one we see, you put the moves on or I'll start investigating who your love affair really is."

"Louie, please! I'm sure Andy here is going to tell me who has stolen his heart. Won't you, Andy? She's got to be a special lady if everything Louie is saying is true."

Liz. No. He couldn't possibly be at the receiving end of one of her interrogations. He would break in a matter of minutes. She had a knack of seeing through him and he really didn't want to give anything away. When he laid eyes on the blond jeweller, his next move was clear. He laid it on thick and he found that he was actually quite enjoying it. After all, hadn't Sharon just thrown him out of her apartment like some cheap one night stand? Like he wasn't the father of two of her children?

When Sharon finally _did_ call him back, he had to reject her call because things had just gone from bad to worse. He was in the Chief's office trying to explain how her two senior lieutenants had walked in a robbery without noticing it. What a day! There was no way Sharon wouldn't hear about this. Maybe this was divine punishment, some sort of cosmic joke that the first time he and Sharon had a fight as a couple was also the first time he got into trouble in a long time. And it wasn't like it was his fault! He'd only helped out his friend. Damn.

/

Over at PAB Sharon was scrolling through Andy's text messages and her harsh reply trying to figure out why on earth she was in such a foul mood. She sighed and rested her head on her hands allowing her eyes to fall close for a moment. Everything had been going so very well for them, at least she had thought so until that morning. Surely not taking out the trash was a forgivable offense? But the moment she had smelled the remainder of last night's dinner her stomach had turned and with that, it seemed, her mood. Just her luck that menopause came with mood swings rather than hot flushes. Gosh, had she really shouted at Andy and told him to go away? And he was still reaching out to her, even after she had shot him down. She was typing in her passcode when she was interrupted by a knock on her door. Short and precise, the way only Sergeant Elliot would knock.

"Captain? We have a new development in the Bonnie and Clyde case."


	30. Fool's Gold

**Chapter 29: Fool's Gold**

 **July 2012**

Taylor was waiting in his office playing with his model aeroplanes. When his secretary announced Captain Raydor, he looked up with an expression of intense amusement. Sharon braced herself for what was to come.

"How nice of you to join me, Captain Raydor."

Her skin bristled at his tone, but she kept her features in check.

"Captain, didn't I tell you _dating_ at work was a bad idea?" he asked making awkward air-quotes with both of his hands. An inappropriate comment was on the tip of her tongue and she would have enjoyed making him squirm, but she didn't want to discuss her personal life any more than necessary.

"Well, Captain, it looks like your fake boyfriend Flynn has once again gotten himself into trouble."

Sharon only raised an eyebrow waiting for Taylor to continue, but he stopped. It seemed like he was waiting for a reaction to his statement. But she wouldn't give him that, she was too experienced at playing this particular game. So she stood still and fixed him with her infamous glare.

"Oh, you haven't heard yet? Gosh, Captain, that must hurt. Didn't Flynn tell you that he and the old man failed to interrupt a robbery in progress at a jewellery store this morning? Am I sensing a lover's quarrel there? So soon?"

Did that mean Andy and Provenza had interrupted Bonnie and Clyde? Her interest was piqued, but she made sure not to show it. Her voice was bland and just a little impatient. "I'm sure you called the head of Internal Affairs here for a reason. Now, is there anything about this case which is relevant for IA?"

"Come on, Sharon, why are so upset? I know it must be hard to learn your fake lover is buying a ring for another girl. I would sympathise, but then we all know Flynn." Taylor made a sound that was somewhere between a gag and a chuckle turning up his palms and shrugging his shoulders. "He's never been a one woman guy, our Andy. Looks like your little charade's coming back to bite you, Captain. Boyfriend not holding up his end of the deal, uh?"

She tapped her foot once, the sound ringing through the Commander's Office. Despite her carefully controlled exterior, she was barely holding on to her temper. How dare he make fun of something he knew nothing about! The intensity of her anger surprised her. She was almost ready to leap over the table and strangle the man. How dare he? How dare he! Good heavens, and why was she in such an aggressive mood? Sharon took a deep breath.

"Anything else? If not, I'm sure you're aware I've got a division to run. But before I leave, let's just remember that we agreed Sergeant Elliot would handle all of Lieutenant Flynn's cases and that whatever you may choose to believe about my personal life, it's really none of your business." Taylor was staring back her, seemingly unmoved by her outburst. "Remember," she continued in a low, dangerous voice, "that you are bound by confidentiality and it is not your place to make jokes about your officer's relationships. Sir, I will report your behaviour as conduct unbecoming should an incident like today repeat itself."

She started into the Commander's amused face for a moment longer before she turned around and walked towards the door, the click of her heels against the linoleum floor sure and strong.

"Goodbye, sir."

Her hand was already on the doorknob when Taylor spoke up. "Captain, wait. We believe that this case may be connected to string of cases you have been investigating." Finally!

A mere half hour later the universe was truly conspiring against her. While the rational part of her mind immediately discarded that idea, another part couldn't stop wondering why she found herself pleading with Chief Pope to let her work with Chief Johnson, which meant the Major Crimes team and, of course, Andy. Any other day his involvement would have made her laugh, a laugh she was sure they would have shared. Bonnie and Clyde. She had a feeling he would have jumped at the opportunity to tell a joke or two. But she didn't feel comfortable, not when they were in the middle of a fight, their first fight as a couple. There was nothing funny about it now. She felt guilty. This fight was her fault, and hers alone: She shouldn't have thrown him out of the condo, she shouldn't have ignored his messages, she shouldn't have responded so harshly. Why was she so aggressive and short tempered all of a sudden? She was in a new relationship, newly in love. She should be happy and relaxed.

/

Before walking into the murder room she took a moment in the ladies' room making sure her clothes were immaculate and there wasn't a hair out of place. Since when did fighting with Andy make her feel so insecure? What on earth was going on with her? Was this normal? Why did mothers talk to their daughters about puberty, but never about menopause? Those mood swings were awful.

In the murder room a photograph caught her attention right away.

Andy. No, Lieutenant Flynn.

On the board.

As a suspect.

And she knew that picture! She had taken it a few months ago on one of their outings with Ricky, back when they had just been friends.

And to top it all off, Liz Provenza was also there. Many years ago they used to move in the same circles. Liz's children with the Lieutenant were a little older than Emily, they had even been friends then and Liz had lent a helping hand during those early days of her pregnancy with Ricky. They had drifted apart after the Provenza's divorce, their children had gone to different schools and their meetings had become less and less frequent.

Offering to go with Liz and Frank was a no-brainer and let's face it, how bad could dog poop be if you'd spent years of your life changing your children? She gave Liz a tiny smile, saw it mirrored in the other woman's face and was already looking forward to catching up when Andy asked the Chief what he could do. It was almost as if he wanted to come with them and sure enough, Brenda gave him the task to carry the evidence bag. Of all people!

The elevator ride was awkward. Sharon really wanted to catch up with Liz, but she didn't want Andy to overhear their conversation and that dog did have just the most awful smell. When her stomach lurched she couldn't help but notice the look of concern on Andy's face – and Sharon wasn't the only one who saw that look. Liz Provenza raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Unsteady stomach?"

"Come on, Liz, you've got to admit that dog smells disgusting! Louie told me he's still trying to air out his place after last night!" Sharon wondered why Andy would jump to her defense. Then she saw the look on Liz' face and that very same moment remembered the woman's uncanny ability to read people. Andy seemed oblivious to what was going on or maybe he was just trying to lighten the mood. He ushered them out of the elevator and when they came to a little bit of green near the PAB, he made a joke about the dog looking just like his best friend.

Liz shook her head of red hair and shrugged her shoulders. "What can I say, Andy? I have a type! At least this one doesn't go after other women and he doesn't talk back either. Frank here is simply the perfect partner!"

"Maybe you should have married him instead. Look at me, what did I do wrong to get stuck with the wicked witch, the crazy dog lady and Farting Frank?" Sharon shot Andy a look. He was known for comic relief, but even for him, this was a bit much.

"You always did know how to compliment a woman," she shot back, but then thought better. At least he had moved the conversation onto another topic and she could do the same. "Liz, spill the beans: when did you become a lover of dogs that look like your ex?"

The redhead grinned. "Oh, I'm not sure, it must have been the year after you learned to fly your broomstick!"

The two women stared at each other for a moment and then they fell into a hug, laughing merrily.

"Gosh, Liz, it's great to see you again, even under these circumstances!"

"What can I tell you? The LAPD is always good for some excitement! You look good Sharon, love becomes you. And you too, Andy. Don't you think for a moment I don't notice the way you look at her!"

"Excuse me?"

"Sharon is the mystery girlfriend Louie was talking about yesterday, isn't she? How did you get him to think she was in San Francisco? Is that your secret hide-away? Ha, Raydor and Flynn! I knew it. This must have been going on for years. Your fights are legendary. Louie never believed me, but I always told him people don't fight like that without a very good reason. Now, don't look so shocked!"

Sharon was so surprised she didn't even think of flat-out denying everything. "But Liz, how?" she stammered instead.

"How did I know? You two are some of the worst actors I've ever seen. You're obviously engaged in some sort of lovers' quarrel. Is it because Andy couldn't keep his hands off that pretty robber lady yesterday? Now, Frank and I are going to take a little walk over there and you two can kiss and make up - or maybe yell at each other a little first."

"I do not yell!" Sharon said rather too loudly, but Liz was already crouching down next to Frank urging him on.

Soon enough Andy had the evidence safely bagged and was holding it out to Sharon with a proud look. Her stomach almost turned this time and she stepped back, right into Liz' arms.

"Oh honey, you poor soul," her friend whispered sympathetically, "I thought I noticed but I didn't wanna say anything. What a wonderful surprise at our age. Does he know yet?"

"It's nothing, Liz, I'm just not very fond of dog poop." Sharon might have shared her suspicions about menopause with her friend. After all, Liz was a few years older and she might have some advice to impart. Although why she would call it 'a wonderful surprise' was beyond her. All those hormonal changes were driving her out of her mind. Anyway, this was not a conversation she could have with Andy standing right there. Instead she focused on the task at hand.

"Lieutenant Flynn, how about you do your duty and carry the evidence bag for me?"

"You're calling him Lieutenant?"

"Only when she's giving me an order."

"Well, I'd sure like to hear more of your pillow talk," Liz chuckled and turned back towards the PAB. Sharon didn't dare look at Andy. Their relationship was no secret, but at this point she wasn't even sure if they still were in a relationship. Andy had missed their dinner date, with good reason, but all she'd gotten was a short text message telling her he had to work.

If Sharon thought that the worst of the day was behind her, she was sorely mistaken. She couldn't get Liz' comment about Andy not being able to keep his hands off the female robber out of her mind. They had one fight and he went and fllirted with someone else? Had she really misjudged him that badly?

A black and white had brought in their suspects and Major Crimes was now trying to get an ID of said female robber from both Andy and Lieutenant Provenza. Except that the two of them, seasoned police officers they were, couldn't seem to remember the ladies' face. Sharon couldn't believe it. They had interacted with her for a good five minutes! Then Liz stepped forward with a huff and covered the suspect's face in the photograph.

"Oh, yeah, no doubt in my mind, Chief."

Sharon heard the words, but it took a while to register who had said them. Andy. Andy? Only one fight and he was back to his old ways. That joke was clearly on her. She could almost feel Taylor gloating. She folded her arms in front of her, pulled on her Captain's mask and answered questions. Her heart might be breaking, but damn her if she was going to let it get in the way of her doing her job.

When Andy came back into electronics and addressed the suspect, she felt like her whole world was collapsing.

"You! We could have had something special."

Until a few hours ago she had thought the same.


	31. A Secret Kept

**Chapter 30: A Secret Kept**

 **July 2012**

Down in the parking garage Andy ran into a familiar face: Liz Provenza and Frank. She waved him over and he was happy to oblige. They had known each other for decades now and despite the divorce, had always considered each other friends of sorts.

"Andy, I'm glad we've got a moment to ourselves." Would there be more talk about him being the fifth wife? "You've changed since the last time I saw you. You look happy, at peace. Are you happy with Sharon?"

Andy didn't know how to respond. Two days ago he would have responded with an emphatic yes, because boy, was he happy! Ecstatic, to be precise. But now? He knew he'd have to apologise to Sharon and what she had said to the Chief gave him hope. Because Andy had actually overheard the two women talking. ' _It's hard being close to people you work with. It's always hard. You've got to be patient with people who drive you crazy. I find that sometimes, good relationships depend on what you are willing to overlook.'_ So Sharon should be willing to overlook him not bringing down the trash, right? He would apologize and they would move on with their life.

"You're fighting now, Andy, but you've been fighting for twenty years."

"That's the thing. We stopped fighting, and it's kinda new, this not fighting thing. A few years ago something happened and we got closer. She's wonderful, Liz, she's just incredible."

Liz smiled thoughtfully. "You're a good fit in an opposites attract sort of way. I always thought so, but you were too busy clawing each others' eyes out. It's good to see you're beyond that now." Andy nodded emphatically. He couldn't wait to put their last fight to rest. "Listen Andy, have you met Sharon's kids? Have you met her boy, Ricky?" His face lit up, but then he tried to turn it down. They were official, but nobody outside of the circle of their family knew about Ricky. "It's okay, Andy, you don't need to say anything. We were friends, Sharon and I, when she separated from that no good husband of hers. A few weeks later she's all smiles and dreamy looks and I'm thinking she's fallen in love. Then she tells me me she's pregnant, and she's exhausted and crying and looks heartbroken. She never talked to anyone about it, but her little boy – he never looked like the husband. Always wondered why I was the only one to notice."

Should he admit it? He had nothing to hide, he was proud of Ricky, but this secret wasn't his alone to share. "Liz, I didn't know you and Sharon were so close, but I can't …"

"Don't worry, Andy, your secret's safe with me. Been keeping it all these years, not gonna change that now. Just glad you know and you two found each other."

Liz Provenza, who'd have thought she'd known all along? He had to tell Sharon. What would she say? Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend pull up in his car. Time to leave. "Oh, and Andy," Liz whispered leaning in close. "Congratulations! If you're ever looking for a name, I like Liz or maybe Frank if it's a boy."

For once Andy was grateful his friend wasn't one for conversation but stayed in the car impatiently waiting for Liz to get in. Andy waved the car off and then made his way over to his own sedan. Liz knew about the baby? Had Sharon said something to her or had she seen it? Did women see that kind of thing? Because he hadn't seen anything and he'd seen … well, a lot more than Liz.

Later that night Andy took a deep breath wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers before finally ringing the bell. It didn't feel right to use the key, not with the way they had left things and when he saw the look on her face he was grateful for that decision.

"You're here. What do you want?" Her voice was cold and even. This was worse than he had expected.

"Have dinner with you," he said with what he hoped was his most winning smile and held out the bouquet he had picked up for her. Her favourite flowers, too. He had called Ricky to make sure he had gotten it right. Purple and orange lilies. The combination was unusal, but he could see how it was uniquely her. He also thought that he could see her lips curving upwards when she took a closer look at the flowers. "These are for you," he offered and lifted the bouquet just slightly, "hope you like them."

"What makes you think I'd want to have dinner with you?" Maybe her voice wasn't exactly cold, but it was different. It sounded empty, without any of the modulations it usually had. Anyway, he was here to apologise and he would do just that.

"Yesterday morning you asked me to come to dinner, well, ordered me, really." Andy chuckled. "And since I had to take a rain check last night …"

"You thought you could just drop in here tonight as though you owned the place." She made no move to take the flowers or let him into the condo.

"Sharon, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about our little fight and I'm sorry about walking in on an armed robbery and not stopping it."

"You're sorry? And you think that's enough?" She'd raised her voice to where it was almost too loud for a conversation that was taking place in the hallway.

"I'm sorry for not bringing down the trash when you asked me to. I promise you, I won't forget again."

She looked incredulous, hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised. "You think this is about the trash? The trash, seriously?"

"And the robbery, of course. Point is, I was an idiot and I want to apologize. Let me come in and make it up to you." Andy was feeling brave, so he took a step towards her and when she didn't stop him, he walked into the condo and closed the door behind him. He tried the flowers again: "These are for you, sweetheart."

"Don't you dare call me sweetheart!"

This was going to be more difficult than he had expected. He apologised again.

"Well, it's a little late for that now. I was a naïve idiot to believe you could ever change. Everybody saw it, everbody except for me. I understand Pope's and Taylor's reactions now. A tiger can't change his stripes. You're still the same old Andy Flynn I've known for years. My fault to think that you could change, that things could be different now. Please leave my home. I'll make sure to post all your things."

"Jesus Christ, Sharon! What on earth is going on with you? So I messed up. I forgot to take out the trash. I'm sorry about that, but that's hardly enough reason to throw me out! And messing up at work? Was I an idiot? Of course I was. Could I have handled the situation better? Sure. Did me hanging out with Provenza lead to another IA nightmare? Quite possibly, but it's not like I did it on purpose!"

She stood there, aghast. "You've no clue what I'm talking about, do you? It's so normal for you that you don't even notice it anymore. Shame on me for being so naïve, shame on me for trusting you!"

"But I didn't do anything to betray your trust." Or had he? Andy was wrecking his brain trying to find what would make her so angry. And it was more than that. Anger, he could have dealt with, but she was upset, disappointed. Her eyes looked as though she had been crying. And then he understood. God, he was such an idiot! There she was, this beautiful woman, expecting his child – again. And he hadn't even acknowledged it. Of course she expected more than an apology. This hadn't exactly been planned and unlike twenty years, they hadn't even taken any precautions. They had talked about STDs, briefly, but nothing more. "I know we didn't plan this, sweetheart, but I am so incredibly happy."

If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought she had no idea what he was talking about. She looked completely clueles – and furious. It was cute, really. All he wanted was to take her into his arms and tell her things would be okay. He wanted to hold her and tell her just how happy he was, he wanted to lift her shirt and kiss her stomach – but there she was, fuming and almost crying at the same time. He had to get this right! He reached for her, but she took a step back.

"I don't know how you planned _this_ ," she moved her hand gesturing between the two of them, "and I am _so_ glad to hear you're happy, but let me tell you, I'm not. This isn't how I imagined our relationship to go. This isn't how I expect to be treated. Andy, I don't care about you not taking down the trash and I know you and Provenza have a strange way of happening on cases, but I draw the line at cheating."

Had he heard her right? Cheating? Andy opened his mouth, not sure what to even deny. He had never cheated on anyone, least of all on her! What on earth made her think that?

"But I didn't cheat on you. I never would, Sharon. Never. I love you." She huffed loudly and wiped angrily at her eyes. "Sweetheart, what makes you think I cheated?"

" _We could have had something special_ ," she spat out ignoring the term of endearment.

"But we have something special, Sharon. We have something incredibly special, you and I and Ricky and …"

"I wasn't talking about us. Do you remember to whom you said that today? That … that blonde woman, the robber. You were flirting with her – right in front of my eyes! And now you have the nerve to show up here with your stupid flowers!" She grabbed the flowers from him and threw them to the floor. "How do you think that makes me feel?"

The bouquet had landed against the wall, it had lost it's shape and some of the lilies seemed broken. He searched for the right words to say. "I wasn't flirting with her, not really. It's just that women respond better when I'm like that."

The look she gave him was equal parts pain and anger, and her voice had become a deadly quiet. "Women respond better?" she elocuted carefully, emphasising every word. "Can you even hear yourself? Maybe you've been alone for too long so you don't notice it anymore. I can't do this. It's bad enough my husband can't keep it in his pants, I don't need a boyfriend doing the same! We're done here. Go away, take your filthy opinions of women and your disgraceful behaviour out of my sight. Just leave!"

Sharon ripped the door open and Andy made one last valiant attempt to explain everything to her. "I flirt, force of habit, I guess. It didn't mean anything, sweetheart, you're all I care about."

"Force of habit my ass! You didn't mean it? So you're just naturally a philandering piece of shit? Get out!"

And with that Andy found himself shoved out, the door hitting him as she slammed it closed.

What the hell? For a moment he expected her to open the door again like she had two days ago, but nothing happened. He raised his hand to knock and stopped himself when he heard a sound. He put his ear against the wood instead. He could hear crying from the other side.

"Sharon? Sharon, sweetheart, please don't cry. Please let me in," he begged knocking on the door with increasing urgency. An elderly neighbour stepped out of the elevator and threw Andy a concerned looking before shuffling down the corridor. The crying had become more desperate and it was all he could do not to kick down the door when he remembered the key she had given him.

24.01.17


	32. Hormonal Confusion

Author's Note: Thank you so much for your reviews and for your continued interest in this little story. Next to the news about Season 6 (FINALLY!) I'd like to blame ilovedessert and her 'Absolute Mess' for my renewed inspiration for this ship. Nothing like a proper mess to pique my interest! But enough about me, and back to hormonal Sharon.

* * *

 **Chapter 31: Hormonal Confusion**

 **July 2012**

Sharon was sitting on the couch, the lilies cradled in her lap, and watched as the tears dropped one by one onto the beautiful flowers. The colours were blurring before her eyes as her hands touched the soft petals.

Why would Andy go through the trouble of giving her these when he was obviously more interested in a much younger woman he'd only just met? Gosh, she'd been hurt before, and she'd been hurt by Andy, but this time it had come out of the blue when she had thought that they were finally on a good path. It was strange, she'd never pegged Andy as a cheater. He was a womaniser for sure, but even when they had been together, she had been the only one breaking vows. These last weeks had been amazing, all the additional tenderness added to their friendship, the way Andy looked at her, how she would look forward to going home to him at night, the little messages during the day. And Andy had seemed happy too, at peace, not like someone who would blow all this over a flirt with a criminal.

A loud wailing sound startled her – she didn't realise it had emanated from her own body. She didn't place the incessant rapping sound as something taking place in her vicinity, didn't react to the key in the lock nor to the sound of the steps. Instead she focused all her energy on the flowers. They were beautiful – an uncommon combination of colours but exactly what she would have chosen for herself. The lively, warm orange combined with the cool and calming purple gave her peace as she lost herself in the swirls of colours. It was sweet of him, really, to bring her these – and she had laid into him like fury personified. She signed, mortified to think who else would find themselves at the receiving end of her mood swings. She already hated menopause and it had only just started!

"Sharon? Sweetheart, I just want to make sure you're okay."

She jumped up in surprise and turned around. Andy stood just inside her condo, keys still in hand. She took a deep breath to steady herself and nodded. He had come back. A man who had cheated on her wouldn't be back to check on her – or would he? Clutching the flowers in her hand she stood and watched his steps until he came to a stop right in front of her. If only she could stop crying! Andy must think she'd gone completely crazy.

"So I shouldn't have flirted with the suspect, and I'm not going to do that again, okay? That was stupid of me."

She sniffed and closed her hands more tightly around the bouquet. Orange and purple lilies, her favourites.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart. You're the only one for me, just you, and there'll never be anyone else."

This time Sharon looked up at him through teary eyes and tried a little smile.

"I can be a real idiot sometimes."

She chuckled softly at first and then the chuckle grew into laughter. "I should know that, I've seen it happen often enough!"

Andy relief was palpable, but he had to hear it from her. "So … are we good?"

The soft expression on his face nearly melted her heart. "We are," she affirmed and when Andy opened his arms wide she literally fell into them. Her head came to rest in the crook of his neck, the flowers now squashed between them. She could feel his arms closing around her, cradling her against him. Gosh, this felt good.

"I'll make it up to you," he whispered into her hair and then she felt his lips against her temple.

But this wasn't quite fair. Their fight hadn't all been his fault. Maybe she should be honest with him and tell him why she'd been so aggressive recently, warn him that this was something they would have to live with for the foreseeable future. They were sharing their life now and her inconvience was part of that. She sighed audibly and Andy tensed up in response. "Sweetheart, please give me a chance."

She had to tell him, even if she couldn't look him in the eyes. She placed a soft kiss against his neck and brought one of her arms out from between them to wrap around his waist. "You don't need to make it up to me, Andy. I … I have to tell you something … a little unexpected. I … gosh, it's awkward, but my hormones are a little out of whack and I may be a little more … sensitive these days. I'm not normally this angry and I hope it won't last."

"Oh sweetheart, that's okay. Neither of us expected it, but that's just the way life goes. I promise I'm going to be with you every step of the way. I'm going to be by your side, even if you're hormonal and moody, okay? This time, you can count on me."

Who are you and what have you done with Andy Flynn, she thought and lifted her face to look at him in wonder. She could see nothing but love and caring in his eyes, that same joy she had seen two days ago when she had woken up in his arms. It was a bit of an odd reaction considering what she had just told him. But then again, how would she want him to react? At least he hadn't made a joke about hot flushes and the like. "So you're okay with this," she asked again to make sure she hadn't misunderstood him.

"Of course I am! I'm more than okay, sweetheart. The more important question is, how are you? I don't mean to be blunt, but you look exhausted."

"Since we're being blunt. I thought you'd already started looking for someone else after our fight and I … dammit, Andy, I don't want to have to doubt you."

Andy brought one of his hands up to rest against her cheek and kissed her tenderly. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm sorry I made you doubt me. Maybe you were right earlier. I'm used to flirting but I promise you, that stops now. I've never been a cheater and I'm not about to start, certainly not now."

Sharon nodded and closed her eyes.

"How about we take a little nap together before dinner?"

She loved how he was just assuming that they would be spending the evening together and she really did feel run down. Her stuffy nose, her burning eyes, their stupid fight and her even more stupid hormones were sucking all energy out of her. She just wanted to be close to Andy. When he lay what remained of the bouquet on the table and pulled her towards she bedroom, she didn't resist.

They stretched out on the covers facing each other and Andy took her cashmere throw and covered her with it. She smiled gratefully. He knew her so well already. Her eyes slipped closed out of their own volition and his gentle caresses only served to make her more drowsy. She drifted off into a happy little bubble and barely stirred when Andy pulled her close, burying her face in his chest whispering how glad she was they were no longer fighting.

"Me too. God, I love you both so much! Just rest now, mommy, I'll be here when you wake up."

Mommy. She shook her head in amusement. Not like she hadn't been the mother of his son for two decades and not like he hadn't known about it for a couple of years now. Maybe actually being together as a couple made it more real for him. And how incredibly sweet of him to emphasise that when her childbearing years were clearly over. He might be a notorious flirt, but she did feel very loved and his hands running slowly through her hair just felt so good.

/

"Gosh Andy, if make-up sex is this good, we really should fight more often. Never thought you'd be quite so adventurous." Sharon was still trying to catch her breath and Andy next to her wasn't faring much better. The need for additional warmth was gone, the blankets discarded on the floor along with their clothes. Blindly she searched for his hand, laughing when he only groaned in response. At least menopause didn't seem to be affecting her sex drive – if anything it was more pronounced. She blushed a little at her line of thought and cuddled closer to Andy. They were both hot and sweaty, but she missed to connection. He groaned again and placed a haphazard kiss in the vicinity of her face. Darkness had fallen and the moonlight was shining through the open blinds. For a while they listened to each other's breathing slowly returning to normal. It was Sharon who picked up the discarded sheet and covered them with a wistful smile. "That was quite a wild ride, darling."

Andy stiffened. "Too wild?"

"Gosh, no! Andy, no, I enjoyed that – very much." Her skin was still tingling at the memory.

"I just figured we might try and get creative now, see what works, you know, with your growing belly and all."

His words washed over her like an icy shower, the warm, comfortable bubble she'd been in burst, leaving behind nothing but dread. It might have shocked her less if Andy had decided to hit her. She tried to roll away, but Andy's arms around her didn't let her go.

"Sweetheart, don't leave. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I have no expectations that way, we'll do whatever you feel comfortable with."

Her growing belly? What did he think would happen to her? Sure, women were known to put on some weight after menopause and truth be told, her doctor had just recently told her she was a little underweight but … but to put it like that? Did he expect her to get so _fat_ that they would need to try different positions?

"Talk to me, what are you so worried about? I can't wait for you to start showing!"

"What on earth are you talking about, Andy? It's not like it has to show." Christ!

The loving expression on his face was at odds with his crude words, with the way he so gently touched her face. "No, not for now, and it's still early days. I mean, you haven't even told me how far along you are." Andy chuckled. "Can't be far, we haven't been together that long. But once you start showing, I'm going to be _the_ proudest dad there is."

Once you start showing? Oh my God, did Andy think she was expecting a child? At her age? Good heavens, this was worse than the talks she'd had with Ricky as a teenager. Didn't Andy know anything about women beyond how to get into their pants? She wouldn't have expected him to be so clueless. And how on earth had he reached that conclusion?

"I can see the wheels in your head turning, Sharon. Talk to me. Have you changed your mind? Do you no longer want our baby?" He locked shocked.

"But I'm not pregnant."

"You're not?" Within seconds the look on his face changed from disappointment to pain and sympathy. "You had a miscarriage? Oh sweetheart, is that why you're so upset? God, I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot. I flirt with another woman while you … is it because I upset you?"

A miscarriage. At least he wasn't completely clueless. Sharon shook her head. "Andy, listen to me: I am _not_ pregnant. I never was. I don't know what made you think that."

"But you told me! You said your hormones were out of whack." He pulled a face repeating her expression.

"Menopause. I was talking about menopause, Andy, not pregnancy! Me-no-pause!"

"I know what menopause is! But yesterday morning when we woke up you said you were pregnant! Don't you remember how you told me and then fell right back asleep on me?"

Something was going wrong. Sharon was sure she had never said that. How could she? She definitely wasn't pregnant. Good heavens, she was closer to fifty than she liked to admit and she'd been premenopausal for a while now. It was early, but not unusually so and it wasn't like she'd had to pay any attention to that previously. And then it hit her: her dreams! Oh dear, those dreams she'd been having during the past couple of years. "Andy, did you say I fell asleep right after telling you?" she inquired to confirm her worst suspicions.

"You did, and then we had the fight and you threw me out."

What Sharon remembered most about that morning was her irrational anger and its intensity. She adjusted her position in Andy's arms to face him directly. He hadn't let go of her all through their exchange and she was glad of that now. What a horrible misunderstanding she had unwittingly created. Poor Andy. Haltingly she told him about her dreams and watched as his face fell, all his earlier excitement replaced by sadness. When she had finished her story she still saw the tiniest glimmer of hope in his features. "But you haven't had a period since we've been together. I mean we've hardly spent any time apart and I'm sure I would have noticed. Maybe you are pregnant after all."

She hated to be responsible for extinguishing the hopeful light in his eyes. "It's true, I haven't had a period since we've gotten together, but I didn't have one for a couple of months before that either. Andy, I'm not pregnant, I'm menopausal." She watched him close his eyes and lean into the hand she had placed on the side of his face, watched how his breathing became irregular and how he scrunched together his eyelids. Then the first tear broke through and ran over his face and once that barrier was broken, he started shaking and sobbing in earnest. It was a heartbreaking sight and there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to make it better. She couldn't tell him they would have another chance at becoming pregnant, she couldn't give him that hope. All she could do was pull him close and she did, holding onto him tightly, rocking him while he wept for a dream that never could be.

And she felt like crying, too. He had really wanted this, she realised. Andy had really wanted to have a baby with her no matter how old they were or how inconvenient it was to raise a child at their age. He hadn't asked how or why, it seemed that he had wholeheartedly embraced the idea and run with it. She remembered the sound of his voice calling her mommy and the way he caressed her stomach, the utter tenderness in his eyes, his declarations of love for both of them, her and the baby.

They had missed out on so many moments together, moments they would never be able to reclaim, that were irrevocably gone. She had had a glimpse of what Andy was like as a father-to-be and she had an idea now of what he might have been like if only she'd told him she was expecting his child all those years ago.

Her own eyes were beginning to fill with tears and soon they spilled over mingling with Andy's as they cried together.

28.01.17


End file.
